More Than Brotherly Love
by Drowned Hopes
Summary: AU, SLASH, EraMur. Murtagh and Eragon were raised apart after their mother's death. But one day Murtagh shows up at their uncle's doorstep, asking for a place to stay...
1. Zak and Thorn

**Disclaimer: I do not own any of Christopher Paolini's characters. I do, however, own Zak.**

**This is highly AU. They live in our time/place/world ("they" being Roran, Katrina, Garrow, Eragon, Arya, Thorn, Murtagh, Saphira, and whoever else I decide to include). Yes, Saphira and Thorn are both human. Yes, they are in high school.**

**Enjoy.**

**-o-**

"Stop!"

He was running, chasing someone, calling out to them, his voice terrified. Something horrible was going to happen –

Who was he chasing? Why?

Eragon felt a name leave his lips, this time with a desperation he did not understand. A jolt went through him. He knew this person! He called their name again, not understanding why he could say it with such pain in his voice and not know whose name he was speaking.

What was going on?

His voice rang out as he called to his quarry again. This time the figure ahead of him flinched, as if the name hurt him. But the person did not stop. Buildings sped past them as they ran, the figure and his pursuer gradually speeding up as their desperation increased – Eragon to catch this man, and the man to not be caught.

Eragon nearly screamed in frustration. He wasn't gaining! Whoever he was chasing was in excellent physical condition, and the streets they ran along were empty of obstacles for either of them to trip over or slow them down. They were too equal in stamina and speed for either of them to make any ground.

Silently, Eragon cheered when the figure rounded a corner into an alley, one he knew was a dead end.

He sprinted to the alley opening. The figure had stopped dead, and was staring in horror at the brick wall were there should have been an opening to a street. Eragon stopped as well.

"Please," Eragon begged. Something horrible was going to happen – this person needed to know, needed to listen to him. The person whirled around, exposing to Eragon bright hazel eyes and raven hair, both stark against his pale skin.

"Murtagh?" Eragon exclaimed. "Why – you ran from me? What's going on?"

Murtagh took a step back from him. He glanced to the side of the alley – Eragon's eyes widened when they both saw the door there.

"Sorry," Murtagh said quietly, voice pained. Eragon suddenly noticed the rope dangling from his brother's hand – what was going on? A rope – Murtagh wasn't going to – why would he – something horrible –

– something horrible was going to happen –

Murtagh darted toward the door, getting through it impossibly fast. The sound of the door slamming echoed through the alley, ringing in Eragon's ears as he sprinted after his brother. He reached the door, yanking desperately at the handle – locked. "No!" he screamed, desperately pulling at the handle. "No, no, no! Murtagh, don't, please!"

Something horrible – something bad, something irreversible, something –

Somehow the door opened. He shrieked, tears streaking down his cheeks, when he saw the body hanging from the rafters.

Eragon woke with a gasp.

He sat upright in bed, shaking with silent sobs, tears running from his closed eyes. Murtagh's face from the dream, his lifeless eyes, his skin even paler in death, haunted him.

These dreams were not uncommon, but never had he seen the person's face.

Now he wished it had stayed that way.

He forced himself to open his eyes, taking in the room that was his place of comfort.

Moonlight shone through both of the open windows in the room, falling on the trashed floor, the tall bookcase, the guitar case in the corner, the pale blue blanket Eragon slept with always. It shone through the open door to the bathroom, and reflected off the mirror there. It enveloped the two occupants of the room, embracing Eragon but sliding into the other occupant's very skin.

Eragon took a deep breath made himself look at the other bed and the young man in it.

Murtagh Morzansson lay still in his bed, his only movement the silent rise and fall of his chest. _Still alive_, Eragon reminded himself. _Murtagh isn't dead, and he's not going to die. Not soon, anyway._

Murtagh had been sharing his room for six months, ever since Eragon had walked home after his first day of the tenth grade to find his brother sitting quietly in the kitchen, staring blankly at the floor, his – their – uncle standing near the stove. Two full duffel bags and a guitar case had been in the floor by Murtagh's feet.

Eragon had stared at the dark young man, who couldn't look more out of place their uncle's homey kitchen. His question had not been voiced, but was obvious enough.

Murtagh hadn't answered. Instead, Garrow had said quietly, "This is your brother. Murtagh. He needs a place to stay."

Murtagh had looked up, an almost pleading expression on his face. Garrow's grim expression hadn't changed. "And now he's got one."

Eragon smiled as he remembered Murtagh's astonished expression. It had taken a while for him to realize his brother had never believed that their uncle would take him in, had never actually gone to Garrow and expected him to say yes. He had just been desperate.

And with that, he had a roommate. It certainly had taken getting used to, and Eragon still didn't quite understand the older male, but they definitely trusted each other now. He smiled slightly, curling into ball, feeling tears come to his eyes again at the thought.

Yes, he could trust Murtagh. With _almost_ anything.

Eragon uncurled himself, looking again at the sleeping hazel-eyed male. His pale skin shone slightly in the moonlight, contrasting sharply with his pitch-black hair. An angel. Eragon rose silently from the bed, feeling acutely the need to touch that delicate skin, to run his finger's through that ebony hair.

He made his way cautiously to the other's bed, feet moving carefully from bare patch to bare patch, avoiding stepping on anything on the floor. The floor creaked – Eragon froze, praying that Murtagh did not wake. After a long moment, in which the older male did not stir, Eragon breathed a sigh of relief and tiptoed the last few feet to his brother's bed.

Delicately, the brunet reached down his hand to gently brush the pale skin; he felt himself relax at the feel of that soft cheek against his fingers.

Murtagh shifted slightly, eyes flickering. Heart pounding, Eragon took a step back, ready to escape to his mattress should Murtagh wake. But after the small movement, Murtagh settled down, and Eragon berated himself mentally. How could he forget what a light sleeper Murtagh was?

He turned back to his bed, but hesitated. He took a deep breath, then, deciding to take the chance, bent down and delicately brushed his lips against Murtagh's.

"I love you," he whispered as he pulled away.

After a long moment, he got back in bed, closing his eyes and dreaming of what it would have been like for Murtagh to kiss him back.

-o-

"You want me to what?"

Eragon flinched as he rose from his dream at the sound of Roran's voice. "Damn," he muttered darkly, thinking of the wonderful dream he'd been having. Murtagh had crawled into bed with him, had been holding him… But no. Roran had to wake him up.

"How is it my job to look after him?" he heard Roran demand. Eragon grimaced as he rose from bed, realizing that his cousin was outside his door, no doubt on the phone. Either that, or he had gone insane.

The brunet glanced at his alarm clock – 11:42. Crap! He was supposed to meet Saphira at that stupid bookstore she liked almost twenty minutes ago. She was **not** going to be happy. Punctual as she was, she was going to be furious. No doubt she'd call any minute.

_Well, actually, this is a good thing_, he admitted to himself as he rushed to the bathroom to brush his teeth . He needed to talk to Saphira about that dream. He shivered when he remembered it – it was still painful to think of Murtagh's dead face, even though it had only been in his head in the first place.

"Crap, crap, crap, crap…" Eragon muttered, yanking off his pajama shirt, then grabbing the first shirt he found on the floor – a tight black one.

Hurriedly he pulled it over his head, only realizing it was Murtagh's when he sniffed it cautiously to check for freshness. Ah well. If he had to go around all day smelling like Murtagh, he wasn't going to complain.

Just as quickly he found a pair of pants – this time his own – and strode quickly to the door. Then, suddenly, he stopped. His gaze hesitantly found Murtagh's empty bed – were had his brother gone? Usually, the raven-haired male wasn't even awake until well into the afternoon.

Shrugging to himself, he moved out the door. He brushed impatiently past Roran, who was still talking angrily into the phone outside his door. He glared at his cousin, who ignored him, not surprisingly. They'd gotten into an increasing number of fights since Murtagh had moved in, mostly because of the raven-haired male.

Roran didn't exactly approve of someone like Murtagh suddenly turning up, but he didn't complain. He did, however, complain that Eragon chose to treat the questionable teen as a brother.

Eragon moved quickly away from his cousin, feeling a bit guilty. After all, Roran was just trying to keep him safe.

-o-

Eragon slipped into the bookstore, trying to look inconspicuous. He glanced around; the store wasn't exactly packed, but it certainly wasn't empty.

Coffee tables appeared every once in a while around the book shelves, providing places for people to lounge. Eragon scanned these swiftly; there was a pair of teenage boys, both a bit older than him, one with purple hair, the other with red. The next occupied table was only an old man reading a newspaper, the next after that a middle-aged woman and a child who grinned up at him.

No Saphira.

He began to walk down the aisles, scanning briefly. Manga, history, dieting, comic books, fantasy, humor – true crime. This was were she'd be. He peeked into the aisle warily; no Saphira.

Saphira was nowhere in sight; Eragon wasn't sure if that was a good thing or a bad thing. Bathroom, maybe.

_Oh well. Looks like I'll have to put off being snapped at until she finds me_, Eragon thought cheerfully. He trotted back two aisles, and began to examine the fantasy books.

Something caught his eye; a dark blue book with a sapphire dragon on the front.

Reverently he lifted it from the shelf and began to examine the back. Satisfied, he opened it. He had just gotten to the part were the hero's "blue rock" had hatched into a cat-sized dragon when a voice spoke behind him.

"There you are."

Eragon looked up, his brown eyes meeting bright sapphire ones. He flushed guiltily and glanced back down at the book he was holding, which Saphira was giving a dirty look.

"Have you been standing here with your nose in that book this entire time?" she demanded.

Deciding not to mention he'd also overslept, Eragon smiled sheepishly. "Yeah…"

Saphira sighed. "Here I thought you'd overslept or something again, but no. You got here in time?"

"Yeah," Eragon lied again.

"Then why in the world didn't you come find me?" Saphira said, then laughed. Eraogn relaxed. She was in a good mood. "You're so easily distracted sometimes, Era. The first good book you pick up you're lost in. I think I can forgive you though – you showed up, after all."

Eragon grinned, punching her on the shoulder. "You're a nag, you know that? I can't help finding a good book in a place like this." He gestured to the bookstore around them, while wondering just how he was going to bring up his dream.

"True," Saphira admitted. "So, it any good?"

"What?"

"The book," she explained, gesturing to the blue book in his hand. "Any good?"

Eragon eyed her carefully. She was definitely trying to make small talk. That could only mean one thing. "Saphira, what are you trying to hold off telling me?"

Saphira flushed. Eragon grinned. Saphira, getting red-faced after such a simple question? This was serious.

"I don't know what you're talking about," she told him firmly.

Eragon smirked. "Right." He went back to considering his book, not really reading but instead wondering when to bring up the subject of his nightmare.

After a few minutes of prolonged silence, Saphira cracked.

"Fine!" she exclaimed. "You're right! I'm trying not to tell you about my boyfriend!"

A woman stopped dead at the end of the aisle, horrified, then glared at Saphira for her level of noise. Saphira, too eager to see Eragon's reaction, didn't notice.

Eragon looked up at her in shock, forgetting all about the nightmare. "Boyfriend?" he said. "You have a boyfriend? Who? Why didn't you tell me you were interested in someone?"

"I did!" Saphira protested, a bit too loudly for a bookstore again. Then she blushed again. "Well, sort of. I did mention him – once or twice. You just didn't notice. You're always spacing out, lately."

This time it was Eragon turn to blush. He knew she he was telling the truth; more and more often he found himself drifting away from reality to think of a certain raven-haired teen…

It was kind of hard not to. He'd recently walked in on his brother in the shower, and unfortunately, his vivid imagination allowed him to fill in any parts of Murtagh's naked body blurred by the foggy glass. Luckily Murtagh hadn't seen him, but that was besides the point.

Saphira smile triumphantly. "See, I did tell you that I thought I might like him! Any way, he - ."

"Out," said a female voice firmly. They both looked to the end of the aisle, flinching when they saw the woman who had given Saphira a disapproving look earlier standing at the end of the aisle, back with reinforcements. An older woman, an employee was giving them both an even more disapproving look. It was the employee who had spoken.

"Out," she said again, this time more impatiently. "You are disturbing the other customers. Buy what you want and leave now."

Before Eragon could protest getting kicked out, Saphira spoke up. "Sorry," she said quickly, flashing a cheesy smile. "We aren't going to buy anything; we'll leave." She glared at both the women as she said this, contradicting her polite words and tone.

"Good," came the icy reply. Eragon winced.

Seconds later, they were both outside in the cold air on the corner of the strip mall.

Eragon gave Saphira a dirty look. "You got us kicked out!"

"So?" Saphira retorted. "It's a bookstore, Era. We'll live."

Eragon stared at her, shocked. Just a bookstore? She had loved that place for years! Now it was _just a bookstore. _"Saphira, are you feeling weird or anything?"

"A little," she admitted, shivering. "It's just so cold out here… I forgot to bring my jacket. I hate cold."

"Oh," Eragon said unsympathetically. "Anything else?"

Saphira grinned. "Nope! You know what? I'm so happy I don't care how cold it is! He asked me out on our first date three weeks ago – not long, huh? Then he called me at one o'clock in the morning, saying he couldn't sleep because he couldn't stop thinking about me – and then he asked me to be his girlfriend!"

Eragon rolled his eyes. "Women."

"Oh, hush," Saphira told him. "What about you, huh? You've been acting weird for weeks. You're in love, too."

Eragon turned bright red. "Am not!"

"Are to," she accused. "And you'd be acting just as happy as I am if she asked you out."

Eragon flinched. If _she_ asked him out. Never before had he felt so guilty for not mentioning to Saphira that he happened to be gay. Of course, what was the point when he had no boyfriend? Let sleeping dogs lie, that was the phrase.

He cleared his throat slightly. All this talk of his crush had made him remember his weird nightmare about Murtagh. "Saphira, there's something - ." he began.

"Saphira!"

Eragon jumped as a voice boomed out from behind him. Saphira grinned happily, turning around to face the redhead who had chosen that moment to appear from the bookstore's doors.

"So this is where you got to! I was wondering after you didn't come back after going to look for your friend," the redhead exclaimed, embracing Eragon's best friend with gusto.

Eragon swallowed hard. The redhead was huge. There was no other way to describe him. He wasn't monstrous, be he certainly did work out, and looked like he could crush Saphira with one hug. His skin was a medium color, neither dark nor pale, and a gold hoop adorned one ear. His clothes were loose, but not baggy. Eragon gaped at him as he flashed the brunet a huge grin full of very white teeth.

Behind him stood a male about Eragon's height with a brilliant shock of purple hair. He also had a gold earring in, this time a diamond stud instead of a plain hoop. His skin was slightly pale, accentuated by his all-black wardrobe.

He, too, grinned at Eragon, but much less cheerfully. More like a grin a shark would give something tasty that the shark was too full to eat at the moment.

Suddenly, Eragon remembered where he'd seen them before. They'd been sitting at a coffee table inside – no doubt waiting for Saphira to return with him.

"So this is the famous – or infamous – Eragon," the redhead said. He let go of Saphira, but kept his arm around her waist protectively. "She tell you about me yet?"

Mutely Eragon shook his head. He was still at a loss for words at their sudden appearance.

"I'm Thorn," the redhead explained. "Her boyfriend. Speaking of which, I have your blessing? I don't look too frightening or anything?"

Eragon nodded nervously. He doubted very much he could do anything to stop him from dating Saphira should he choose to do so, but Thorn looked serious.

Eragon glanced at the other male. He was still grinning, an evil glint in his eye. "Zak," he introduced himself. "Surzako Feiht, actually. But please don't call me that. I hate my name."

Eragon stared at him. "Er – sure. But – Surzako? What is that, Japanese or something?"

Zak's grin grew broader. "No idea." He glanced at Thorn and Saphira, who were still wrapped in each other's arms, albeit less closely than before. He rolled his eyes; Eragon felt himself grinning back.

Zak wasn't such a bad guy, maybe.

"So," Thorn said finally. "You two have actually have any plans past meeting me and Zak here?"

Saphira shook her head. "I was concentrating more on introducing you than doing anything after that," she told him. She glanced at Eragon. "Unless there was something you wanted to do?"

Eragon shook his head. This was getting confusing. First that nightmare, then Saphira suddenly having a boyfriend. At the moment, all he wanted to do was talk to Saphira privately, but it didn't seem like he'd get his wish any time soon. Saphira rarely developed crushes, even more rarely became her crush's girlfriend, and never went this crazy over said boyfriend. She definitely wasn't going to come back down from cloud 9 back to Earth anytime soon.

He sighed.

Saphira seemed to notice. She looked back at Thorn, then shrugged. "You know, I do want to spend some time alone with my best friend for a while. Maybe you and Zak should hang out a while by yourselves while me and Eragon talk?"

Thorn nodded in agreement, then planted a kiss on her lips. He grinned as she blushed.

Zak's grin somehow got bigger. "But of course, my lady! Do as you wish. I shall comfort your beloved in your absence." He gave an exaggerated bow.

Thorn laughed and smacked him on the head. "Come on, Zak We've go to meet Arya."

Zak's face lit up. "Ah, yes! Excellent suggestion. Another female to find. Of course, Arya's single, so I must admit, that puts her at a higher ranking than you," he told Saphira seriously. "You're much prettier, though. So if you and Thorn don't work out - ."

"At least have the decency to hit on my girlfriend while I'm not here," Thorn chuckled, grabbing him by his collar and proceeding to drag him off.

"Goodbye, fair lady and noble sir!" Zak called as Thorn shoved him back into the bookstore. Saphira giggled.

"He's really weird," Saphira explained to Eragon. They began to walk away from the store, towards Saphira's car. "Thorn told me he was strange, but I thought he was exaggerating. What do you think? Are they nice?"

She looked a bit nervous when she said this, but tried to sound lighthearted.

Eragon knew she was asking more about Thorn than Zak. "Thorn seems really nice," he assured her. "Easy to talk to. Zak's just weird, though."

Saphira smiled shyly. "Thanks, Eragon." She opened her car door, sitting down inside and putting the key in the ignition as Eragon opened the passenger side door and got in.

"For what?"

"For not being mad that I started this so quickly," she said. "I met him only a month ago, at a bookstore out of town, and he just transferred schools here Friday. It means a lot that you support me in this – Mom's going throw a fit."

Eragon stared at her in surprise. "He transferred to our school for you? You're kidding!"

Saphira shook her head. "That's just a coincidence. He met me at the bookstore, and we ended up hanging out. We exchanged phone numbers, met at a few places – we went to a movie three weeks ago – and starting dating a bit. Then he called Friday night and told me he'd seen me at his school – we were ecstatic. His father got a job here, and they had to move. I didn't even see him at school; he can be inconspicuous when he wants to be."

Eragon shook his head. "You're lucky, you know that? Just plain lucky."

Saphira smiled. "Aren't I, though? He's so nice – so open all the time. Not very talkative, but I don't really care. I can understand him – just like you."

"Oh," Eragon muttered, staring out the window at the shapes racing past. "Where exactly are we going?" _How do I bring up that dream? _he wondered.

"The park," she replied, the car slowing down even as she said this. "I want somewhere quiet to talk to you."

Eragon glanced at her. "About what?"

"About everything," she said softly, pulling into a parking space. "Eragon, you've been acting strangely, and I admit I was hesitant about telling you about Thorn. I didn't want to upset you if you were already upset."

"Why would I be upset about Thorn?"

Saphira hesitated. "Well… we've been friends for so long. I thought maybe… you wouldn't like him, or you'd be depressed that I found… someone…"

Here she trailed off. Eragon stared at her.

Saphira took a deep breath. "Eragon, I said it before, and I'm still sure. You're in love, and I didn't want to dangle my happiness in front of you if you're depressed about someone not liking you."

Eragon's jaw dropped. It never failed to astonish him how she always managed to read his mind.

"It's… not that I think she doesn't like me," he told her after a long, long moment. "It's that, well, she likes me, but… not that way. And if I tell her, I might just make her hate me…"

Saphira sighed. "Eragon, we both know you're gay."

Eragon's face flushed. "I might be bisexual."

His best friend snorted. "Yeah, right."

"So what? It is a guy, alright?" he told her reluctantly. "That's not the problem – well, that's part of the problem. The problem is that they'll probably hate me for telling them."

"Why?" Saphira demanded. "Is he a homophobe?"

"No, he's bisexual," Eragon explained.

"What the problem, then?"

Eragon took a deap breath. "Saphira… I, well, I'm not sure. I mean, there's not one, because our kid's DNA won't get screwed up because we're both guys, we can't have kids."

Saphira froze. "You mean…"

Eragon nodded.

"You're in love with Roran?"

Eragon stared at her in horror. "What? No!"

"Oh," Saphira said, looking relieved. "I thought you meant you were in love with someone in your family."

"I am."

Saphira frowned at him.

"Murtagh," he said quietly.

Saphira gaped at him.

After a long, long moment, she flinched. "Does it have to be him?" she asked plaintively.

Eragon flushed. "It's not like I chose to fall in love with my own brother!"

"I know. I just mean… Well, it's not like he's that bad a guy or anything… I just don't really like him," Saphira admitted. "It has nothing to do with you two being brothers. I mean, you're practically not brothers anyway."

"Explain," Eragon demanded.

"Well, you didn't even grow up together. Your father got Murtagh, but Garrow got you because the courts decided Morzan couldn't take care of you both."

"He couldn't take care of just one of us, either," Eragon muttered darkly. Murtagh trusted almost no one, and presumed everyone had the worst intentions at all times if he didn't know them that well. Always his mask was in place, almost impenetrable, keeping his emotions safely hidden. No, Morzan had not taken care of Murtagh. Instead he had nearly driven him insane.

Saphira sighed. "It still makes you mad, huh?"

"Of course," Eragon growled. "He ran off on his eighteenth birthday with some clothes, his guitar, and a hundred and fifty dollars, with no place to go. How could anyone be so cruel that Murtagh would abandon his home just to get away? Always drunk, always beating Murtagh, half the time starving him just so he'd have enough for beer! I wish Mother had never died. Then she would have kept taking care of us, instead of splitting us up and having Murtagh handed over to that _bastard_."

Saphira hugged him awkwardly from the driver's seat. "You don't know what your father is actually like, Eragon. All you have in what Murtagh told you, and Murtagh could just be exaggerating or angry at him for some reason, and needs people to think his hate in justified. Just because someone you love says something, doesn't mean it's true."

"You don't understand," Eragon said softly. "Murtagh isn't like how he is by choice. It's how he was taught to survive. Never trust anyone, never expect anyone to treat you nicely without wanting something in return. Never treat anyone with respect who you don't know deserves it."

"And he needs to learn that's not how the world is, at least not all the time," Saphira said gently. "I'm not saying he's bad or wrong – well, he is wrong – I'm saying that's how he is. If you love him, then I want you to love him knowing what he is."

"You seriously don't care that he's my brother?"

"Blood shouldn't matter, not when it comes to love. And like I said, you weren't even raised together."

Eragon hugged her. "Thanks. Can we stop with the therapy now?"

Saphira pulled away, grinning. "Not a chance. That's not all that's bothering you, is it?"

Eragon sighed, then shook his head. "You sure you can't read minds?"

"If I could, I wouldn't have to persuade you to tell me about this stuff," she pointed out. "Tell me. Now."

"Well, I had this dream," Eragon began.

Her cell phone went off.

Eragon gave it a savage glare. Saphira flipped open the lid, then smiled happily. "It's Thorn!"

"So?" Eragon muttered, but Saphira had already pressed the talk button and was chatting avidly with her boyfriend.

Finally, she closed the lid and grinned at him. "We're going to the movies with Thorn, Zak, and this Arya person they know," she said cheerfully. She turned on the car and began to back out of the park.

Eragon sighed. "What movie?"

"Bloodbath IV."

Eragon's eyes lit up. "You know, Murtagh wanted to see that." Before she could protest, he dialed his brother's number on his cell.

"What?" he demanded when she looked at him. "If I have to go, I want to have someone to talk to when you and Thorn start snogging, and I can't trust Zak to keep a decent conversation. Or this Arya person, whoever she is."

She shrugged and opened her mouth to speak, but at that moment, Murtagh picked up. Eragon gestured for her to shut it.

"Hello?" Murtagh growled.

"Who had the misfortune to get you in a bad mood today?" Eragon asked, smirking.

"Roran. We got into another fight," Murtagh replied, sounding much less hostile than before after recognizing his brother's voice. "You call to harass me, or did you actually have something to say, brother?"

Eragon smiled wryly. "I was going to invite you to see Bloodbath IV with me, Saphira, and three other friends, but if you're in a bad mood…"

Murtagh laughed. "Bloodbath IV. Perfect. And here I was just thinking how to calm myself down. Where?"

Eragon glanced at Saphira. "Where?"

"Carmike Studios 38," Saphira told him. Eragon repeated this to Murtagh.

"I'll meet you at the entrance in ten minutes," Murtagh said. "The 1:15 showing?"

"Yeah. See you there," Eragon said, snapping the phone shut.

Saphira grinned.


	2. Bloodbath IV

"You're where?"

Eragon glanced at Saphira, who was speaking rather angrily into the phone. He grinned – someone else had attracted her wrath. It was nice to see her get mad without being on the wrong end of it for once.

She listened for a few more seconds, then sighed. "Alright, we'll be there." She closed the phone with a snap. "Eragon, they lost Thorn's car."

"Huh?"

"That's what I said. Don't ask me how they did it, but they did. Apparently Zak is very inventive when it comes to random acts of stupidity," she muttered. They were standing on the corner of the theater, waiting patiently (scratch that – impatiently) for Murtagh, Thorn, and Zak.

Eragon grinned. He was definitely going to like Zak. They began to walk back the car. "How can you lose a car?"

"Ask them," Saphira said crossly. "Honestly – how you men manage to do things like this, I'll never know."

"We try," Eragon said modestly. "What happens if Murtagh gets here before we get back with Thorn and Zak?"

"He gets to wait, on the off chance he's not late. We've got ten minutes until the movie starts, and he likes to show up five minutes late, remember?"

"Good point. He's in a bad mood, though, so we better hurry," Eragon said, opening the passenger's side door and sliding in as Saphira started the car. "You don't want to Murtagh ticked off, trust me, and sometimes it's easy to set him off."

Saphira raised an eyebrow as she backed out of the parking lot. "Really? I've never seen him smile _or_ frown. You never see him show any emotion at all. I didn't know he could get anything more than displeased."

"You have to know him well to tell," Eragon explained. "And he does take off the mask every once in a while, when he's really upset or happy."

"Nice to know."

They sat in silence the rest of the way there. They pulled into a parking just in time to see Zak being slapped by a pretty young woman with long black hair.

Saphira waved as she rolled down the window. "Get in!" she called.

The black haired girl glanced over, then turned her attention back to Zak. "Hit on me again and you're dead, Feiht," she snapped, then followed the other two into the car.

Thorn laughed as he got in the back. Zak climbed in after then, sitting in the middle, as the black-haired girl sat on the other side of him. "Saph, you're a livesaver," he said. He punched the purple-haired teen on the side of him. "And you, Zak, are an idiot. I can't believe you told that guy - ."

"It wasn't my fault," Zak protested. "Arya brought him over!"

"You're the one who did that thing, though, remember?" the black-haired girl retorted. "And then you - ."

"Yeah, yeah, I know what happened next," Zak said, annoyed. "Blame me, then! I don't care."

Eragon looked back at the three curiously. "How exactly did you loose a car, anyway?"

They all glanced at each other. "I have no idea," Thorn admitted. "Zak?"

"I don't want to talk about it," Zak said crossly. When Arya opened her mouth, he glared at her. "And I don't want to hear about it, either."

Arya shrugged. She glanced at Eragon and frowned. "And you are?"

"Eragon Garrowsson," Eragon introduced himself. Technically, he was Eragon Morzansson, but he hated to say that after he'd been told more of his father by Murtagh. "You're Arya, then?"

"Arya Izlandi," the black haired girl said, then frowned at him a bit more. "Garrowsson, you said?"

"Yeah, why?"

"You remind me of an old friend of mine – I was wondering if you were related. Apparently not, though," she explained. She looked at Thorn, who seemed to the leader of the little posse. "What movie, now?"

"Bloodbath IV," Thorn replied, eyes focused distantly on Saphira, who wasn't noticing. She was too busy staring at the road. Zak smacked him on the shoulder, smirking, and Thorn grinned, looking away.

"Here we are," Saphira announced, parking. Gratefully, the three in the back got out, happily separating from each other. Grabbing her purse, Saphira urged them on. "Hurry up – we've only got a minute until the movie starts."

"What about - ," Eragon started, but Saphira cut him off.

"He's always five minutes late, I told you already," she said, walking quickly. "Hurry up!"

"Aw, Saph, calm down," Thorn said reassuring. "the previews always take fifteen minutes anyway. We have plenty of time."

To Eragon's surprise, she sighed and slowed down a bit. "You're right I guess. We have some time… Eragon, maybe we should wait for your brother."

"Naw, he'll find us in the theatre," Eragon said, unnerved by how easily Thorn had placated her. He still wasn't quite used to the calming effect the huge redhead had on people.

"Who now?" Arya asked as they reached to door to the theatre.

"Eragon decided to invite someone else – his older brother," Saphira explained. "He's a bit… well…" (she glanced at Eragon) "Easily annoyed? Irritable, that's it."

"He's perfectly nice," Eragon told her firmly. "He just doesn't know how to _be_ nice, so he's always either pretending to be emotionless or mad. He knows how to be mad, though."

Thorn grinned. "Sounds a bit like my best friend from last year."

Arya and Zak nodded in agreement. "Very self-controlled," Arya commented.

"Completely nuts," Zak announced, spinning his finger clockwise around his ear in the universal gesture for insanity. "Loved him like a brother."

"What happened to him?" Eragon asked absentmindedly.

"Left. Had a few too many arguments with his father," Thorn explained, handing the cashier the money and taking the tickets. "He said he didn't want to remember anything from back there, so we didn't keep touch."

"Ah," Saphira said, not really paying attention. Eragon frowned. Something about what Thorn had just said sounded familiar… About to ask another question, Saphira interrupted him instead. "Want anything? Popcorn? Drinks?"

"I'll buy, course," Zak said quickly. Saphira stared at him surprise; he reached for her hand and kissed it delicately. "I wouldn't want anyone to spend any money on my behalf, of course."

Arya rolled her eyes. "Just because your parents are filthy rich…"

"Jealous?" Zak asked innocently.

Eragon, Arya, Thorn, and Saphira proceeded to ignore him, heading for the door for the movie.

Ten minutes later, Eragon wished fervently he had not come. White-faced, he stared at the screen, horrified, as yet another woman was decapitated.

"W-why's it always women?" he gasped.

Zak laughed loudly – he received a glares from all sides of the theatre, and several "Shhh!". "I have no idea. I love this movie! Ten dead already."

"Y-you keep count?" Eragon whispered, eyes wide. He didn't blink, far too terrified to move.

"Sure," Zak replied, shoving his face full of popcorn.

Saphira was doing much better than Eragon – then again, she had a huge muscle-man next to her she could hold onto. Thorn patted her comfortingly as number eleven was shoved into a pit of needles. Saphira flinched – she hated long falls, and the needles didn't help.

Arya gazed at the screen, looking faintly amused, bored, and disgusted, all at the same time. Zak patted her hand gently. "If you get scared," he said gallantly, "I'm right here… My shoulder's completely free."

Arya smiled sweetly. "If you even think of wrapping your arm around my shoulders, I'll rip it off. Got it?"

Zak leaned away from her. "Got it."

Eragon shuddered as number twelve jumped into the same pit to escape the murderer. Zak glanced at him. "Hey, you okay?" he asked, sounding serious. "You don't look so good…"

Eragon nodded shakily. "I'm fine."

He nearly jumped out of his seat when Zak patted him gently. He stared at the purple-haired teen, who immediately pretended nothing had happened.

Wondering if he had just imagined it, he almost let out a shriek when a voice spoke in his ear.

"You do look a bit pale, brother," Murtagh whispered, sliding in the seat next to him.

Eragon swallowed with difficulty. "D-don't sneak up on me like that." He shivered as number thirteen was cut apart, piece by piece, with a chainsaw.

"Calm down," Murtagh murmured, setting his drink into the cup holder. "Tensing up like that only makes it worse. Relax."

Eragon shivered again, this time because of Murtagh. The older male was so very close, so very real in the seat next to him; unlike Zak, Murtagh was trying to be as quiet as possible, and was speaking in his ear. He could almost feel his brother's lips against his skin there, and _could_ feel Murtagh's hot breath. It didn't help that the words, taken out of context, could mean something much, much different, much more intimate. He hated how his brother affected him like this.

"Are you sure you don't want to go outside or something?" Murtagh whispered, misinterpreting Eragon's shiver. "You don't have to watch."

Eragon shook his head.

"I'll stay with you if you decide to leave."

Eragon shivered once more at the hot breath puffing on his ear – it felt kind of nice. He glanced at his brother, half-hidden in the darkness of the theatre. He shook his head again. "I'm fine."

"Liar," Murtagh told him softly, sound amusing. "Fine. Stay."

Eragon nodded gently, eyes focusing on the screen once more. He squeaked when the little boy – looking quite a bit like himself – screamed.

He started when a warm arm wrapped itself around his shoulders. "Shhhh," Murtagh's voice whispered in his ear. "I'm here, brother."

Eragon flinched again when there was another scream. Instinctively he leaned into Murtagh's arm, before he realized what he was doing and began to pull back away, sliding out from under it.

"What's wrong?" Murtagh asked.

Eragon flushed. "I-I didn't mean to…"

Murtagh slid his arm back into place, giving him a brief, one-armed hug. "Sit still. It's fine, alright? I mean, we're brothers. You think it's weird?"

_We're brothers_. Eragon felt a stab of pain at the words. They were brothers – nothing else. He nodded, deciding to take what he could get. "No, it's not weird… you're right." He leaned slightly closer, enjoying the feel of that bare skin across his neck and sliding down to his other side, keeping him safe.

Murtagh was here, he was safe.

He sighed relief when to movie ended. Murtagh spoke again, this time sounding amused. "You really hate horror movies, huh?"

"Shut up," he said playfully, shoving his brother off him. They all stood up, filing out of the dark theatre with Thorn first, Murtagh last.

They were some of the last ones to leave the theater. When they finally got out, Thorn turned around. "So, Saphir…"

He trailed off, eyes widening. Stock still, disbelief etched on his face, he stared. Zak was to his side, a similar look on his face. Arya's beautiful face was shocked as all three of them stared at Murtagh.

Eragon frowned at them. "This is my brother. I told you about him before, remember?" Why were they acting so weird? He glanced at Murtagh, and was surprised to see the raven-haired teen had the same expression as the other three.

"M-Murtagh?" Zak exclaimed finally. He seemed unable to say more. Murtagh continued to stare at Thorn, looking rather dazed.

After a long moment, Thorn's puzzled expression gave way to a huge grin. "Murtagh!" he laughed, coming forward. Murtagh smiled wryly and embraced Thorn like a brother.

"What are you guys doing here?" Murtagh asked, when he and Thorn broke apart. "Eragon mentioned something about Saphira's new boyfriend and some friends… how do you even know Eragon?"

Zak seemed to recover himself. "Nice to see you too, Murtagh," he said cheerfully. "What, I don't get a hug, too?"

Murtagh's eyes narrowed.

Zak smiled nervously. "I'll shut up now."

Murtagh turned his gaze back to Thorn.

"Saphira's my girlfriend," he explained. "And she wanted me to meet her best friend, and I happened to bring along Zak, and Zak wanted more than two people to hit on, so I invited Arya."

_More than two people?_ Eragon thought, feeling dazed. _Saphira's one… so I'm two? Zak hits on men?_ Deciding to clear things up a bit, he asked Murtagh suddenly, "How do you know Thorn?"

All three glanced back at him in surprise. There was a moments hesitation. Then Zak seemed to remember something. He looked from Eragon, back to Murtagh, back to Eragon, back to Murtagh. He pointed at the younger male. "He's your little brother?"

Murtagh raised his eyebrows. "I thought you were going to shut up?"

Zak nodded quickly.

Murtagh moved back to Eragon, slinging his arm across his brother's shoulders affectionately. "Yeah, Eragon's my brother. I told you before, remember? When our mother died, our uncle, Garrow, started a case to get custody of us. The courts decided that Morzan was incapable of taking care of both of us, so they sent Eragon to Garrow, but left me with our father. Garrow sort of took me in when I left, so we're living together now – me, Eragon, our cousin Roran, and our uncle."

Eragon still felt extremely confused, but the others looked more or less satisfied. Saphira looked vaguely puzzled. "Explain," he demanded.

"Thorn's my best friend from before," Murtagh said. "Before I turned eighteen and could leave my father legally. We've been friends since we met in the second grade."

Thorn winced. "I remember that. I took your paste and you gave me a black eye."

Murtagh grinned. "Oh, yeah. Arya's this girl me and Thorn met in the fourth grade. Zak had looked up her skirt and she was making him regret it. Thorn decided to pull her off him, so we sort of all ended up as friends."

Saphira looked rather impressed. "This is a weird coincidence," she remarked.

"Nice, though," Arya murmured, still staring at Murtagh. No, glaring. Subtly. There was anger in her stare, but controlled anger. "Why, exactly, did you dump us again?"

Murtagh winced. "I am sorry about that. I just wanted to live my life as far away from that place as possible, alright? And I didn't want to go back there, even if it meant never visiting any of you."

"We could have come to you," Arya said coldly.

"And don't think you're going to get rid of us now," Zak chirped in. "We love you far too much to leave you at your brother's mercy, Taggy. Eragon's vicious sometimes, I swear. Something in your blood, I guess."

Eragon couldn't help but smile. "I'm sure," Murtagh said dryly.


	3. Party Animal

"We're going where?"

Saphira sucked at the straw in her drink, glancing up at Eragon as he voiced the question. They were sitting in one of the coffee tables at Saphira's favorite bookstore, sipping – you guessed it – coffee. It had been two months since they had first discovered that Murtagh and Thorn were best friends, that night at the movies.

Things had certainly changed since then. Murtagh was happier and out of the house more often, Saphira was constantly going from being on cloud nine to worrying about Eragon's mental health, and Roran was barely around anymore. Apparently he was engaged to Katrina now, and they spent most of their time together.

And all Eragon could do was think about his older brother, who rarely even spoke to him anymore. In the past two months, Murtagh had gone from being his overprotective older brother to someone he barely knew.

"To some party," Saphira answered Eragon's question. "Thorn told me about it."

"That doesn't mean we have to go."

Saphira sighed. "You're going to be difficult, aren't you?"

"Yes," Eragon retorted. "Why would I want to go to a loud place were everyone's drunk and get hit on by older men? I wouldn't mind so much if cute guys hit on me, but it's old gay perverts!"

"Murtagh will be there."

"Oh," Eragon said, looking a great deal more cheerful. "Okay, then."

"He'll be performing, though. He's going to play while Arya sings," Saphira explained. She glanced out the window they were sitting by, examining the passing people with interest. "So… how is that little problem of yours going?" Eragon stared at her blankly. "You know, your crush on that one person…"

Eragon flushed, realizing she was talking about Murtagh. "It's kind of gotten worse."

"I thought it was already as bad as it could get."

"Apparently not." Eragon averted his eyes. "I… just don't know, Saph. Maybe you're right, I should tell him. But he's my brother, and I keep getting this feeling that…" he trailed off, unsure of what to say. "That… he's moving farther away from me. I don't to do anything too suddenly, it might push him all the way away."

Saphira smiled gently. "Tell him when you want, them. In the mean time, what are you wearing for the party?"

-o-

Later that same day…

"Hey, Murtagh!"

Murtagh was sitting on a park bench, glaring absentmindedly at one of the trees around him. He'd been waiting for too long to be in a good mood. "Yeah?" he asked, not turning around at the sound of his very late friend's voice.

Arya trotted up to him. "We're late. It's 7:42 and we're not even there yet."

"_You _are late," Murtagh corrected. "I've been sitting here waiting for you for an hour."

"And _we_ are late for the party," Arya retorted. "Why didn't you go ahead without me to Zak's house?"

"Because I don't know the way," Murtagh replied impatiently. "That's why I was supposed to be meeting you here at 6:45. We were supposed to go together."

At this point he turned around. Then he gaped at her. "What the hell are you wearing?"

Arya smirked. A short, tight black skirt hugged her hips, a slit in the side revealing both her beautiful legs and the strap of her black thong. A blackish-green belt was wrapped loosely around the bottom of her sleeveless emerald shirt. Silver hoops glinted in her ears, just barely peeking out at the viewer from under her long black hair.

Murtagh almost flushed. He hadn't changed clothes from this morning, and certainly hadn't been expecting to want to now. He glanced down at himself; Arya caught the look.

"Don't worry about it," she said, sounding amused. Her cousin was embarrassed? She winked. "I happen to know several people who'd testify in court that you could look fashionable in a garbage bag. Let's hurry up - we don't need to be later than we already are."

She trotted along to his car. "Wait up!" Murtagh called. He grabbed his guitar case and hurried after her, determined to make sure she got to the car before getting distracted. "How did you even get here, anyway?" he demanded when he caught up with her. "You don't have a car."

"True, but Thorn does," she reminded him.

"You made Thorn late? Or did he make you late."

"Neither. Thorn decided to take Saphira and Saphira decided to take Eragon. It took them nearly a half-hour to convince him he needed to come and then it took a while to get him decent," Arya explained. "He's almost as stubborn as you." He unlocked the door to his car, sliding into the driver seat. Arya sat down in the passenger side, feeling the leather seats appreciatively. "I forgot how great a car you have. What did you do to get this thing again?"

"You don't want to know," Murtagh replied grimly, starting the car. Arya laughed.

Murtagh didn't.

When they got there, Murtagh didn't get out. When Arya frowned at him, he motioned for her to get back in. "Eragon's going to be here," he said, more stating than asking.

Arya nodded.

Murtagh took a deep breath, as if preparing to dive. Then he got out of the car. "Okay."

Arya grinned, obviously amused, and stepped out of the passenger seat again. "Let me guess. You and Eragon still aren't talking." When Murtagh didn't reply, she sighed. "You're going to have to find another way of dealing with your little infatuation, Murtagh. Trying to ignore him isn't going to help, and you're just hurting him way."

"Better hurt than angry," Murtagh said flatly. "Let's find Zak and get this over with."

-o-

Eragon glanced nervously around the huge mansion. "How can they even afford this place?" he yelled, eying the dancers. The mansion was lit with red lights; an enormous stereo sat on one side of the room, blaring music. It was hard to even hear himself. "And I thought Arya and Murtagh where supposed to be doing the music! They're not even here yet!"

"Aw, come one, Eragon!" Thorn shouted back. "Just enjoy yourself already! Murtagh and Arya will be up there soon, they're just late!" He turned around, beginning to talk to someone above the music.

Eragon shook his head irritably. Why he'd agreed to this, he didn't know. He glanced at Thorn; the redhead was laughing and joking above the noise with Zak. Saphira, he knew, had gone to the car to lock her purse in, having forgotten to when they'd gotten to the mansion.

Time to make his escape.

He wove through the crowd toward one of the other rooms, determined to find a smaller, less crowded room where he wouldn't have to worry about losing his hearing. He had promised Saphira not to leave, but then again, he was staying in the mansion, just not the huge room in which most of the party was happening. He'd just call her when it was time to leave, or find a ride.

Finally he managed to get to a door. Pushing through it, he found an equally dense crowd on the other side, and kept going. There where two glass doors open onto a balcony, a locked door from which moans were coming from, a door to a kitchen and a harried-looking woman, a bathroom with a drunk – and then he found quiet.

He breathed a sigh of relief when he found a hallway on the second floor that was relatively silent.

There where seven doors before him, then a curve in the hall; he moved towards the first, but immediately jerked his hand away from it when he heard a loud moan come from within. He glared at the room disgustedly, wondering what idiot had gotten drunk and was jacking off in there.

The second door was a closet. The third was a nice room; seeing it was completely empty, Eragon sighed in relief. Finally, peace and quiet.

He studied the room. An ornate chest of drawers occupied a stretch of wall to his left; an expensive-looking bed was opposite to it, and in a corner was a mirror, shining in the moonlight from the open window.

He smiled slightly when he saw himself. He looked ridiculous; Arya and Saphira had a creative streak when it came to humiliating him. His shirt was a simple dark brown, his hair spiked but brushed back, and identical black bands adorned his wrists. His pants were too tight, showing off his ass more than he liked. He'd said specifically that he didn't want anymore hitting on him tonight, and the girls had done everything they could to thwart that. _If only Murtagh was the one hitting on me_, he thought wistfully, continuing to admire himself.

-o-

Saphira frowned as she re-entered the party. "Where's Eragon?" she yelled to Thorn, who was getting some punch.

"What?"

"_Where's Eragon?"_

"_What?"_

Saphira shook her head and motioned towards the door. Thorn followed quickly. When they where outside, Saphira asked again. "Where's Eragon?" she demanded. "You said you were watching him!"

Thorn looked startled. "You mean he's not in there?"

"No!" Saphira said. "Why weren't you looking after him?"

The redhead frowned at her "You mean he has to be watched the entire time? I though you meant just stay in sight and check on him every so often, make sure he wasn't freaking out."

Saphira chewed her bottom lip. "He's – well, inexperienced when he comes to parties. Not the wild type. He might have sneaked off for some place quieter in the mansion. You know how people are at stuff like this sometimes – he might wind up being beaten up or something."

"Sure you're not being overprotective?" Thorn asked, putting a comforting arm around the blonde. "I mean it's not like he's stupid enough to go somewhere where there's nobody friendly around without a weapon or pepper spray or something."

Saphira's face became several shades paler.

"Uh, is he?" Thorn asked nervously.

Saphira hurried back into the mansion. "We've got to find him, quick."

"Shit," Thorn muttered, following her. He glanced at his best friend, who was playing his guitar on a makeshift stage of tables with Arya singing some rock tune. Murtagh looked at him, and Thorn gestured for him to come here. Murtagh nodded slightly, putting down his guitar and slipping over to them while all eyes where on the hot gothic-looking girl onstage.

"What?" he demanded over the noise.

"Eragon's missing, we need to find him!" Thorn yelled. "You know the mansion better – where's somewhere that's quiet and private?"

Murtagh hesitated, then nodded. "I'll find him," he assured Thorn, then left.

Saphira looked at Thorn apprehensively. "You think he'll be able to find him?"

"He will," Thorn said calmly. "It'll be fine, Saph, trust me."

"You obviously have no idea how much of a danger magnet Eragon is," she muttered, face still a bit pale.

"We'll find Zak and tell him, then. It's his parent's house, after all – he knows his way around."

Saphira nodded, looking a bit comforted by the thought. Thorn took her arm, searching the crowd for the purple-haired teenager.

Minutes later, they were still unsuccessful. Beginning to feel frustrated, Saphira jumped when someone spoke in her ear.

"Who are you looking for?"

"Zak," she replied, not turning around.

"What a coincidence! _I'm_ Zak."

Thorn laughed. "Good. Zak, Eragon's gone of by himself and Saph's worried. Murtagh went to find him, but will you look to?"

Zak swept a low bow. "If it means comforting you, fair lady," he said, kissing Saphira's hand, "Yes, I shall. If I do not return by sunset, wear my handkerchief by your heart always." Before Saphira could protest that it was already after sunset and she didn't have his handkerchief, he had vanished into the crowd.

Thorn patted her comfortingly. "See? Eragon will be fine."

"Of course," she replied sarcastically. "He's got a purple-haired teenager with poor judgment skills and his depressed older brother out looking for him. He'll be just fine."


	4. Questions and Kisses

"What are you doing?"

Eragon jumped, whirling around. Zak. The brunet turned bright red; Zak had just walked in on him admiring himself in the mirror. Not exactly something you wanted to be found doing by a close friend.

"Uh, um," Eragon managed to stammer. Damn. The one time he needed a witty comeback, he was completely at loss. Doubtlessly, in the next few minutes he'd think of the perfect thing to say. Once it was thoroughly too late.

"Oh, I see," Zak snickered. "Honestly, you can't even wait to get home to ogle yourself?" He walked toward Eragon, smirking.

Eragon's face did the impossible, turning an even darker shade of crimson. "I wasn't – "

"Oh yes you were," Zak laughed. He gave Eragon's shoulder a light shove. "Though I can kind of see how you couldn't resist…" he continued, looking Eragon up and down.

Eragon managed to grin a bit, still feeling kind of embarrassed. "You've had way to much to drink if you're thinking like that about me," he teased.

"Too much to drink? I can handle my liquor better than you can, Garrowsson."

"That doesn't mean you can't get drunk," Eragon pointed out. "What are you doing here, anyway?"

Zak shrugged and sat on the bed. "Looking for you, handsome. Saphira was getting worried when you ran off, and Thorn enlisted me and Murtagh to come look for you. Speaking of which, I suppose I should call Taggy and tell him I found you…"

Eragon nodded in agreement, but Zak didn't move to take out his cell phone. Instead he looked thoughtful. "Uh, why was Saphira worried?" Eragon asked, deciding not to ask why Zak didn't call Murtagh already.

"Apparently you're a danger magnet or something, and you don't know how to handle yourself at parties. I could show you how to act," Zak offered, eyes gleaming. Eragon hesitated – Zak had a look on his face that usually meant he was planning something. "Come on," Zak chuckled, when Eragon didn't immediately say yes. He stood up, moving over to Eragon, who still stood by the mirror.

Eragon wanted to take a step back, but it was Zak, after all. Zak was about as dangerous as a puppy with a stick. So he just said, "Shouldn't you call the others and tell them I'm fine? Saph will be getting really worried."

Zak shook his head. "You in such a hurry to get back to the party? I thought you didn't like things like that?"

"I don't, but if Saphira's worried," Eragon started, but Zak interrupted.

"Eragon, it's not like she's freaking out or anything," Zak assured him. "She just wanted you to have one of us with you to keep you out of trouble. I'm just saying, if you don't want to go back to the party, then you don't have to. I'll stay up here with you. We can talk."

Eragon relaxed a bit. "Oh. Okay."

Zak grinned. He sat down again, patting the mattress beside him. "Now for some party etiquette. Young Eragon, you must learn that there are some things you never, ever do at parties."

"Like what?" Eragon asked, deciding to play along. He sat next to Zak, noticing instantly how very warm and soft the mattress was.

"Like, know your limit," Zak said wisely. "Never get drunk with people you don't know. Only and idiot does that. Get drunk with your friends, later, after the party."

"And?" Eragon laughed.

"And… never, ever give someone your phone number. People are different at parties. You don't want someone you barely know stalking you. That's creepy. Flattering, but creepy. Oh, and no matter how hot it gets on the dance floor, don't start stripping to cool yourself off. That never works out well."

"Bad personal experience?"

"You have no idea. Hmmm… Number four: never hit on a lesbian. It doesn't work, and you're just getting your hopes up."

Eragon snickered. "I really don't think I'm going to have that problem. I'm gay."

Zak's eyes flickered to him, skimming his body in a way that made Eragon nervous. "Really? Thought you were bi or something."

"Oh!" Eragon exclaimed. "I just thought of number five: never let your best friend dress you."

Zak laughed. "Bad personal experience?" he said, repeating what Eragon had said earlier.

Eragon gestured to himself. "You have no idea."

Zak cackled, rolling over on the bed. "Good one! Uh, number six…never get yourself into a situation where you're in a dark bedroom with another person during a party. They expect sex, and usually they'll get it, whether you want it or not. Number seven?"

"Never flirt with someone you actually like at a party."

That a earned a chuckle from Zak. "How true. Is there anymore you like?"

Eragon shrugged, swiftly deciding to avoid the question. "I've got one – how about 'never dye your hair purple'?"

Zak raised his eyebrows. "Oh?" He rolled back over, lunging forward and pinning a smirking Eragon to the mattress. "Well, what do you think of my hair now, Eragon?"

"Why did you dye your hair, anyway?" Eragon eyed the violet strands, wild from their brief tussle. He tugged on his wrists, pinned above his head by one of Zak's hands. "And are you going to let me go or what? I'll sic Murtagh on you."

Zak rolled his eyes. "If I was afraid of Murtagh, I wouldn't be fl– oh, never mind. As for my hair? I like the color purple. Got a problem with it?"

"As a matter of fact, I do," Eragon retorted, straight-faced. "I prefer blue. Now let go!"

"Fine." Zak released his wrists, then sat so that he was leaning on the headboard. He gave Eragon and odd look.

"What?" Eragon demanded. He wasn't sure what that look was, but it was weird, seeing if from Zak.

"Nothing, I just…" he trailed off, looking at the door. Then he glanced back at Eragon. "You know…" He crawled across the bed to Eragon. "I think I came up with number eight…"

"What?"

"Never, ever hit on someone with an overprotective older brother."

Eragon smiled. "You know, I think between us, we've broken almost all of these rules."

Zak grinned. Eragon was reminded of the first time they'd met, when Zak had smiled like a shark.

"Let's say I break number eight," he growled.

Eragon's eyes widened as Zak shoved him against the headboard, mouth on his. He gasped – what the hell was the purple-haired idiot doing? Eragon automatically opened his mouth as Zak bit his bottom lip, wanting entrance.

He couldn't help but groan as his attacker slid a knee between his leps; Zak pulled away, panting for air and snickering at Eragon's little noise. "What the hell are - !" Eragon stammered, eyes huge.

"You're cute when you're clueless, love," Zak chuckled. "Rule number six, remember? And I suppose rule number five too… you're hot as hell in that outfit… Saphira has excellent fashion sense…" He raked his eyes up Eragon's body. His eyes, acid green and lined with black makeup, looked downright predatory. He ground their hips together, smirking when Eragon whined – in complete control, knowing exactly what he was doing to Eragon.. Eragon had never felt more terrified or turned on in his life. Had Zak always looked this – feral?

Zak put one hand behind Eragon's neck, leaning down to kiss him. His lips were softer this time; Eragon responded, feeling heat pool in his belly, feeling it thrum through his body. _Oh god_, Eragon though, horrified. _I'm making out with Zak_. Then that thought quickly turned into _son of a bitch I'm going to cum in my pants_. Zak's lips slid to the side as he kissed his way down Eragon's jawline. He titled Eragon's head to expose his neck, then paused wickedly, smirking. "I'm going to leave a hickey here," he murmured, "so dear Taggy, along with everyone else, knows who had you first."

Eragon shuddered. Zack nuzzled his neck, then turned to kissing, then tongue, then teeth, then –

It felt so good to have Zak on top of him, wanting him this badly, but still. He was going to lose his virginity at a party, with a friend he'd never even thought of that way, when said friend was a bit tipsy? That wasn't exactly how he imagined it, and he didn't really like Zak that way. Other than the way he liked any hot guy that climbed on top of him and – _oh god_ – did that tongue-swirly thing to his neck.

"No," he muttered, pushing the purple-haired teen away from him. "Zak, get off!"

Zak blinked, surprised, but even more surprisingly, he got off. Eragon pushed himself up, backing himself against the headboard. Eragon felt his neck, hoping it wasn't really bruised. "What? Not your type or something?"

"N-no, it's just…"

Zak eyed him silently as he attempted to find an excuse. When Eragon was unable, Zak asked, sounding curious, "You're a virgin, aren't you?"

Eragon turned bright red. "What does _that_ have to do with anything?"

"Absolutely nothing. Just confirming a theory. It's a simple choice, love," Zak whispered, leaning in closely, eyes flashing hungrily but contained. "You want to or you don't. You keep acting like you want me to chase you. You don't protest when I flirt with you."

Eragon looked away. "It didn't seem like you were serious."

"I'll be frank with you," Zak said, his voice strangely calm for someone with such an animalistic gleam in their eyes. "I think of you as a friend. A great friend. A great, hot friend. Boyfriend? No. I'm not the relationship type. I think you'd be a great fuck. But you're a virgin." He sighed. "As a general rule, I don't pop cherries. But of course I was going to make an exception... your innocence is part of your charm."

Eragon but his lip. _Why not?_ he asked himself.

Zak touched his cheek. "I really should be a bit clearer… Like I said, no relationship. Screwing each other once in a while, screwing other people too, no romantic stuff. I'm offering you sex. Take it or leave it." Eragon frowned. It almost sounded like Zak was trying to convince him to say no, but that made no sense.

"No," Eragon said hesitantly. Zak sighed and moved away. "Look, you're… attractive and all that stuff… but there's this other guy I already like, and I really don't want to have sex with you knowing you're going to be having sex with someone else tomorrow."

"Oh." Zak shrugged. "I didn't think you'd want to, but, hey, it was worth a shot. You really are hot. And it would be kind of weird, being friend with somebody you have sex with… I usually stick to people I barely know… it's kind of more interesting that way, you know? 'Cuz you have no idea what to expect, I mean - ."

"Zak, I really don't to hear about that."

"Oh. Right. Sorry." Zak stood up, acting like they hadn't just made out and started to have sex. "Let's go and tell your friends you're not dead, shall we?"

"About time, Saphira's probably going nuts," Eragon said, standing up and brushing himself off.

"Oh, only a little but nuts."

Zak jumped, whirling to face the now-open and the young man standing there. "M-Murtagh! There you are! Well, in case you haven't noticed, Eragon's fine, and we were just about to find you guys."

"Oh," was Murtagh's cold reply. He was looking at Zak suspiciously. He glanced at Eragon. "Nothing happened?" he asked.

"No," Eragon assured him. Briefly he wonder if Murtagh had been asking if anything had happened before or after Zak had found him. But he quickly dismissed that idea – why would Murtagh think Zak would try anything?

Because he would. He did try something, after all, a little voice in Eragon's head said. He smiled at his brother reassuring. "Nothing bad happened at all, Murtagh. You worry too much sometimes."

Murtagh froze for a second, then nodded expressionlessly before leaving without a word.

Zak glanced at the door. "Is he acting weird, or is it just me?"

"It's not just you. Zak, why hasn't Murtagh been talking to me?"

"Um, you don't know?" Zak asked, beginning to feel a bit worried. Damn. If Eragon didn't know, how was he supposed to find out?

"No, why would I?" Eragon asked, sounding bitter. "It's not like he considers me his _brother_ or anything."

Zak winced. "Oh… well, I was hoping you knew. He'll get over it."

Eragon smiled, and they left. Immediately following their departure, they ran into Saphira and Thorn, who proceeded to lecture Eragon about his stupidity. After apologizing several times, Murtagh took Eragon home, Thorn took Saphira home, and Zak went to a coffee shop to meet Thorn.

They would have a lot to discuss.

-o-

"Well? What did Eragon know?"

Zak slurped his coffee/whip cream/milk drink happily, licking his lips when he finally let go of the straw. "Abosutely nothing."

Thorn raised his eyebrows. "What?"

"Nothing. Nadda. Zilch. Not one piece of valuable info."

Thorn sighed. "I went through all that trouble," he began.

Zak waved airily, interrupting him. "Yeah, yeah, I know. First you get rid of Saphira, then you sneak away from Eragon to make sure he goes off on his own. Then you carefully suggest to Saphira that someone she doesn't trust goes to look for him. And when she of course demands that someone else go too, you suggest me. You set it up brilliantly, and I know, I had ample time to get information out of Eragon, but it didn't happen. He's clueless."

Thorn sighed. "Eragon doesn't know why Murtagh's depressed, huh? This could be bad… but how did it go, besides the fact he was clueless? Are you sure he wasn't just saying that? You were subtle, right?"

"Who do you think you're talking to?" Zak smirked. "Thorn, I'm a pro, and pros never ask question directly. We just listen. In Eragon's case, I first got him to agree to talk to me, then I got him comfortable enough to talk by cracking stupid jokes, then I led the conversation in various directions. There was only one question he avoided." Zak's eyes sparkled wickedly.

Thorn smiled broadly. "Yes! This is why I count on you to help me with stuff like this, Zak. What did he not want to answer?"

"I asked him if there was anyone he liked."

Thorn simply stared at him. The coffee-shop employees continued to clatter around them, oblivious to the drama. Then finally, Thorn spoke. "So… what does this mean, you think? That he likes you, and Murtagh doesn't like that?"

Zak shook his head. "It's not me, trust me. I checked."

"Really." Thorn leaned back. "How?"

Zak smiled nervously. "Uh, it doesn't matter…"

Thorn eyed him suspiciously. "Are you sure?"

"Positive."

"Alright then," Thorn said, sipping his coffee again. "What does Eragon not wanting to answer mean, Sherlock?"

"It means," Zak announced triumphantly. "that Eragon likes someone. And Murtagh, the older overprotective brother, has guessed and doesn't like it. Naturally, Murtagh is conflicted – he either doesn't know who Eragon likes, and therefore can't beat them up, or he doesn't want to beat them up for some reason, but feels he should anyway. All you need to do is give Murtagh a bit of relationship counseling. Though I really don't see why you always go through all this trouble to find out what's wrong with him and then try to fix it…"

"If I asked him what was wrong, he'd lie," Thorn explained. "I have to ask you instead. As for fixing it, what am I supposed to do, let him drive himself crazy." He stood up. "I suppose I should go talk to him now, then. Or at least talk to him in the morning."

"Ah, don't worry about it," Zak told him, then pointed to the seat that Thorn had evacuated. "Sit back down. Besides, you haven't repaid me yet."

Thorn smiled wryly. "Drat. I was hoping you'd forget. Who do you want me to hook you up with, then?"

Zak considered for a moment. "Well, your manly charms can get me almost any chick or fellow around… so… how about that hot goth guy from the party?"

"Kain?" Thorn shrugged. "Sure. Expect him tomorrow night at your house. I'll convince him you're the hottest guy around. Just hope he's gay."

"Did you see how tight his pants were? Of course he's gay. Hook me up with him, and consider yourself out of my debt, my friend." Zak got up and swept an elegant bow. "Pleasure doing business with you again, master Thorn."

Thorn laughed and finished his coffee.


	5. Midnight Conversations

"You WHAT?"

Murtagh winced, covering his ears. "You don't have to yell, Arya."

They were in her house – or, more specifically, her apartment. Unlike most normal seventeen year olds, Arya lived completely on her own. Her father had died when she was younger, and she argued often with her mother, so, eventually, she had simply moved out. Not that Arya and her mother hated each other, but they needed space, and it wasn't like Arya was completely on her own. Her mother helped her pay the bills, and Arya knew more or less how to take care herself. Any robber, rapist, or serial killer that invaded her sanctuary would quickly be on the floor, screaming in pain, while Arya calmly called the police. Murtagh knew this from experience, thanks to a prank he and Thorn decided to pull once. One that hadn't ended well for the two teenage boys.

Murtagh had come to talk to her after the party. It was an unspoken rule between them that these talks they had where not to reach Thorn's or Zak's ears - both of them had a habit of interfering where they shouldn't. They knew they could talk to each other at things that they couldn't tell the other two.

Currently, Arya was cleaning her little kitchen area, swiping a wet dishcloth across the counters and putting away dishes with almost unnerving rapidity. Murtagh was sitting uncomfortably in the comfortable chairs by a small kitchen table, feeling very out of place in this small, tidy room.

He looked away from her quickly. "Was… it really that stupid? I mean, it won't really matter."

Arya gave a frustrated sigh, not bothering to even stop or look at him. "Honestly, how do you figure anything out on your own? Look, you shouldn't have gotten mad at Zak. Eragon likes Zak, and you're only alienating yourself by continuing to be angry at him."

"I'm not mad!" Murtagh snapped.

Arya raised her eyebrows. "So what did you come here for?"

-o-

"I need to talk to you."

Zak looked up from the couch he was casually sitting on and shrugged at the brunet. "I assumed that when you called to ask if you could come over," he teased. Mentally he thanked any god that might be listening that Eragon had called after he got done talking to Thorn. That kind of thing couldn't be interrupted.

They were in his room, which Eragon couldn't stop admiring. It was, after all, huge. There was the segment they were in, which was a lounge area with a TV and several games consoles, along with just about every game known to man. There were two - two! - couches, a small coffee table, and two overstuffed chairs that went with the table. And that was just one segment. Off through an archway, there was Zak's plush bed, surrounded by all of Zak's things, surrounded by posters that papered the wall to the point that you couldn't tell what color the paint was. And off of that room, there was a door leading to a personal bathroon, complete with a glass-enclosed shower, a sunk-in jacuzzi bath, and a small closet for towels and various soaps and oils.

"You're parents are filthy rich," Eragon told Zak for about the hundreth time.

To which, Zak smiled smugly and said, "I know. Wonderful, isn't it? I pick any chick, bring her here, and she immediately wants me. Just because I can get pretty much anything I want. I like women like that - I don't feel guilty when I tell them I don't want a relationship."

Eragon stared at him. "Oh," was all he said, before he continued to inspect the room. Zak smiled again, realizing it was a nervous habit or something. A way to avoid what they'd come to talk about.

"So," Zak said, laying down completely on the beige couch and seeming completely at ease. "What exactly is it you want to talk about? It's about Arya, right?"

-o-

"It's Zak," Murtagh explained.

"So why are you mad at Zak?"

Murtagh flushed. "I'm not mad at Zak, okay? I just… he… he's getting on my nerves a bit."

"Really." Arya sat down at her little round table at the chair across from Murtagh, now finished with her cleaning. "How so?"

"He… well, he's just so perky all the time… and he won't shut up."

"…and?" Arya queried when Murtagh stopped.

Murtagh blushed, just a little. "And he won't stop hitting on everyone."

"Everyone," Arya stated calmly.

"Yeah. Everyone. I mean, he prefers women, but still, he hits on all the guys, and it's just… annoying! I mean, even if they're straight or not interested! Like Er - ." Murtagh stopped, face paling a bit.

Arya smiled triumphantly.

"That's why you're mad at Zak," she announced. Murtagh opened his mouth to protest, but she didn't allow herself to be interrupted. "You're still in love with Eragon, and you don't like that Zak hits on him. Or that Eragon doesn't seem to mind,_or_ that Eragon actually has become friend with Zak. You're jealous."

-o-

"I'm not jealous of her!"

Zak smirked. "Oh, sure you aren't. You're just upset that Murtagh went to see Arya after dropping you off, and refused to tell you why he was going to see her."

Eragon flushed. "Why would I be jealous? Arya's nice."

"Nice, yeah," Zak said, rolling his eyes. "I don't know why you'd be jealous. Maybe you're nuts? It could be genetic or something. Murtagh is certainly crazy, and I've met your father the nutjob, too. Was your mother crazy at any point during her life?"

Eragon grinned. Somehow Zak's inability to take anything seriously made him feel better. "Shut it, will you? I can't believe I came to _you_ for advice."

"Why didn't you go to Saphira?" Zak asked curiously.

Eragon hesitated. "I… don't know," he said uncertainly. "It's just… she might tell Thorn, and then Murtagh might find out… And she and Murtagh don't really like or trust each other. She'd probably just tell me to stay away from him, I shouldn't be worried."

"Good point. She can indeed be rather prejudiced at times. Then again, she has a right to be - Murtagh isn't exactly someone who is easy to trust. She'll trust him with you when she's ready to. But if it's not jealousy, then what is it?"

-o-

"It has nothing to do with being jealous," Murtagh growled. He paused and took several deep breath, struggling to calm himself and knowing he wasn't going to succeed. He bared his teeth savagely. "It has to do with the fact that I'm in fucking love with my own brother, and _that bastard_ is playing around with him!"

Arya very briefly thanked her mother for insisting she take combat lesson when she was younger. They might come in handy if Murtagh continued to get angry, although she doubted Murtagh would actually hurt her. Maybe yell a bit, but, thanks to his father, he considered people who took out their rage by beating scapegoats weak. Murtagh would not allow himself to be weak. "Zak isn't playing around with him, Murtagh," she said gently. "Just calm down."

"Calm down? Don't you dare tell me to calm down, Arya," he snarled. He got out of the chair and began to pace. "I'm so sick of this! People always act like I'm crazy, or about to go off – Christ, I think I _am_ crazy! Crazy, and sick, and – and dangerous." He froze, staring at the kitchen stove, and shuddered. "I-I hate this…"

-o-

"Hate it all you want, you're going to have to deal with this," Zak told Eragon.

Eragon sighed, frustrated, and sat down on the other couch. "I know. I just wish he hadn't gone to see her. I mean, why didn't he go to Thorn? They're best friends."

"Maybe if he wanted to talk, he would have," Zak pointed out. He immediately regretted his choice of words when Eragon flinched. "Not like that, okay? Maybe he wanted to hang out with someone other than Thorn for once. Why said he wanted to just talk? They could be playing or video games or something."

"Or screwing," Eragon said dejectedly.

Zak tried to smile brightly, but failed. Somehow his optimistic front was giving in a bit, but now, when Eragon needed him to be the comic relief in the increasingly angsty story that was his life, wasn't a good time for it. "Screwing is fun, yeah, but who said Murtagh liked to have fun?" When Eragon's mouth didn't even twitch upward a little, Zak began to feel a bit depressed. "Hey, cheer up, will you? I really don't think Murtagh is in love with Arya."

-o-

"I don't know," Murtagh whispered, feeling a tear sliding down his cheek. "I just don't know if I really love him or not... I just wish I could screw him, just once, just to see what it feels like when I'm done. Just to know if this is just something my body wants, or if I really want a relationship. Just shove him against a wall and...never mind."

Arya shrugged. "Just… try to block out thoughts like that. Murtagh, don't worry." She smiled at him comfortingly. "Don't worry. I can't say everything will turn out fine, but things will take their course whether you want them to or not. And you will survive. Somehow this will work out, and you'll wonder why you were so scared before."

Murtagh took a deep breath. "I know, I just… I know." He sank into the cushy chair in the corner, trying to focus on the soft cushion under him rather than his anger and pain.

The stoic emerald eyes met confused hazel ones. "I know you know," she assured him. Her voice was calm, confident. "Just do the best you can. Reality is tearing you apart, and you're helping it by tormenting yourself like this. Zak isn't a bad person, really. He won't hurt Eragon, and I don't think Eragon is going to even begin to like our mischief-maker that way. Saphira is too smart to let her best friend fall for someone who isn't going to be able to make him happy, and she recognizes that Zak is far too flighty to stick with one person at a time."

Murtagh let out a choking sound – it was supposed to be a laugh., but it hadn't quite come out right somehow. "Saphira? Oh, _now_ I'm comforted. She hates me."

"But she cares for Eragon like a brother. Zak and Eragon probably won't happen, and if they do, it… wouldn't be so bad."

Murtagh froze. He stared at Arya.

"It won't happen," Arya said quietly.

-o-

"You really think so?"

"Of course. How could Arya and Murtagh happen?" Zak said confidently, laying down on his comfy couch and closing his eyes, as if he didn't have a care in the world.

"If you're sure," Eragon said hesitantly. He looked uncertainly at the purple-haired teen. "Don't you wonder why I'm so worried?"

Zak shrugged. "Sure. But think of this from my point of view - if I ask, you'll probably become uncomfortable and leave, or deny something I didn't even accuse you of and get mad. If I keep my mouth shut, I can piece together things by myself and gain your trust. If I resist my curiosity, it will be sated."

Eragon stared at him. "You're devious, you know that? Devious and twisted."

Zak laughed. "I know, and it's a lot more fun than being average and sane. By the way... are you _offering _to tell me why you're so upset about this?"

"I think I'm in love with him."

Zak froze. _Wow_, he thought. _Christ, I was way off with what I told Thorn!_ "Really?" he said, laughing like the thought it was a joke, and offering Eragon opportunity to change his mind about revealing his secret.

"I'm not kidding," Eragon said quietly. He averted his eyes. "I... Zak, I really think that love him."

-o-

Murtagh sank his head into his hands. "Why does it always come back to that? Why does it always, no matter what I say, come back to me loving him?" he asked, voice muffled by skin and bone. "Why the hell do I feel like that towards him, dammit! He's my brother… I shouldn't…"

He trailed off, voice and hands beginning to shake. Gently, Arya leaned across the table and touched his shoulder. "Murtagh, I can't tell you whether it's wrong or right. I don't know. But what I can tell you is that you need to find a way to deal with this – either by telling him, or staying away. Wishing doesn't make the urges go away."

Murtagh's hands continued to shake. "You don't get it," he whispered, voice cracking a bit. "I can't stay away! I've been trying, can't you see that, and all it's done is depress him. Every time I look at him, I see the sorrow and confusion in his eyes – it's tearing me apart, I can't even tell him why I can't be around. I don't want to hurt him, I just want him gone."

"He's not going to leave. Tell him if you can't avoid him, Murtagh," Arya said quietly. "Those are the only choices. There is nothing else to do."

"Arya, this isn't… I c-can't tell him. He'll hate me," he whispered, then laughed harshly. "I sound just pathetic, don't I? I'm afraid of him, Arya. I'm terrified, mortified, pertrified, just plain scared out of my wits at the thought of him hating me. I never thought love could hurt so much."

"There is no other choice. You have to, Murtagh, please. Don't keep tormenting yourself like this - find out once and for all. Tell him."

-o-

Zak smiled reassuringly. "Tell him, not me, kid. His reaction is the one that matters."

Eragon flushed. "You believe me?"

"Sure. I was begining to wonder if that was it about half way through our little talk." Zak stretched lazily, like a cat.

"Oh," Eragon muttered. "But... what if he already knows? What if he know I want him, and he wants Arya? I think that's why he's been avoiding me."

"Then confront him. It's the only thing left to do. So are you gonna do it or not?"

Eragon was silent for a long, long moment. Then he got up and turned towards the door, but hesitated. "Zak... Can you keep this a secret from Thorn, Arya, and Saphira? Just for a while?"

"Yeah. Don't worry about it," Zak told him, closing his eyes. "Good luck."

"Thanks," Eragon said quietly.

Zak just smiled comfortingly, not bothering to open his eyes.

-o-

"Are you going to tell him?"

Murtagh bowed his head silently, and, after a long moment of silence, got up. "I don't... I don't know. Maybe. Somehow. I'll at least talk to him about Zak. Arya, thank you. For everything you've ever done me. And if you get the chance, tell Thorn that I've always considered him my brother, and he has my blessing with Saphira."

"What?" Arya asked, smiling teasingly. "Planning on leaving the country if things with Eragon don't turn out well?"

"Something like that," Murtagh admitted, a plan beginning to form in his mind. A plan he hoped he wouldn't have to use, but it was always good to have a backup. "Thank you," he said, one last time.

-o-

Eragon made his way back down to the front door carefully, remembering in vivid detail how he'd almost gotten lost on the way to Zak's room. It would be incredibly embarrassing to leave after such a dramatic conversation, only to have to call Zak on his cell phone to get directions out of the house. Finally, he made it to the outside, and began the walk home.

He would have called Saphira for a ride, but she was probably asleep by now. It was practically five in the morning now; thank god it was semester break and he didn't have school tomorrow. It was only a fifteen minute walk, anyway.

"What should I say?" he muttered, lost in thought. "I love you, I hope you don't love Arya?" He laughed bitterly.

"Maybe I'm just going crazy," he whispered, shivering in the cold night air. "I'm talking to myself, after all... but... Zak's right, isn't he? I have to tell Murtagh." He paused. "Yeah, I have to tell him. But just how? What to say, what to say..."

He glanced around. Nobody was within sight, just the silent lamp posts along the street and the dark stores dotting the streets. Good, nobody was here to think he was crazy. He stopped, then looked at a small tree. "Murtagh," he said, deciding to practice on it, "Look, we've haven't known each other for a while now, but I really think that I might l-like you in more than a brotherly way... no, that's stupid." He continued his walk, blushing furiously at his antics. _Well, no one's around, so what's it matter?_ he thought.

"Murtagh," he tried again. "Look, I know you've been hanging around Arya a lot, but I - no. Don't bring up Arya. Just tell him. Okay, I can do this."

He took a deep breath. "I love you," he said to the silent night air. "I don't know how long I have, but I do. And I really hope that's not why you're mad at me, because - no, that's stupid! Why is it so hard to tell a guy you like him?" he yelled, frustrated. "Maybe I should just kiss him. No, that might freak him out. Okay, I could just hint at it and hope things take their course. No, I need to do this quickly or I'll lose my nerve. So maybe I should just kiss him..."

He continued like that all the way home, stopping only when he realized he was at his house. He squirmed when he saw Murtagh's black car in the driveway. "Okay," he told himself. "You can do this. Just go in there and tell him. Not a big deal."

"Okay," his whispered one last time. He determinedly strode toward the door, almost tripping over a crack in the concrete, and blushing furiously over his clumsy feet before retrieving the key sitting under the little ceramic garden gnome next to the door.

Slowly, he opened the door and headed towards Murtagh's room. _I can do this,_ he told himself one last time before opening the door. _I really can. _"Murtagh?"


	6. Confrontation

**+Eragon's POV+**

"Murtagh?"

Murtagh looked up from his bed in their room. Eragon stood in the doorway, framed by the outside light shining through the doorway into the dark room. Murtagh had not bothered to turn on any lights.

Eragon swallowed with difficulty when Murtagh did not reply. This was going to be harder than he expected. "M-Murtagh, I… we need to talk…"

Murtagh still didn't talk, just looked away, face still pale. Eragon peered at him through the darkness, struggling to read his brother's expression – if he even wore one. Too often of late Murtagh wore only a blank mask. Hesitantly, Eragon reached for the light switch, but paused and let his arm drop when he considered that fact that Murtagh wouldn't like the light. And what would he see if he did turn on the lights? A tear-stained face, pale skin, and hollow, pained eyes? What disease had eaten away at Murtagh, to so effectively turn his heart to dust?

Eragon took a step forward. Murtagh didn't react, except to turn away.

"Will you not speak to me?" Eragon asked softly.

Murtagh didn't even look at his brother.

"Won't you even look at me?" Eragon pleaded. "Murtagh, I – I don't understand… why are you so angry with me?" Silently he prayed that Murtagh had not discovered that he was in love with him. No, that couldn't be it.

"Well?" Eragon's voice cracked slightly. Finally, Murtagh looked at him. Not that it made much of a difference - all Eragon could see were two hollow hazel eyes staring blankly from a black silhouette.

"I'm not mad," Murtagh said simply. His voice was hoarse, as if he'd been crying or hadn't been sleeping. Both possibilities rattled the brunet. "I just…" The elder brother let out a sigh. "I… I just… Eragon, you…"

Murtagh's lithe form shuddered, and his voice gave out. He just sat there, empty and silent, pained and angry. Eragon would have gladly given his right arm to know what his brother was thinking; what was hurting him so? Realizing Murtagh wasn't going to continue, the brunet decided to put an end to this and get his answer.

"You know, don't you?"

Murtagh looked up; had the room light to see by, his face would have been twisted by confusion and anger, and… fear, maybe. "Know what?"

A pause. Then, Eragon spoke. "About… my crush."

Murtagh flinched; for a moment he seemed at loss, hopelessly torn and crushed. Then a change Eragon had been expecting. Fury. The raven-haired male's beautiful face twisted in rage; he glared savagely at Eragon. "Get out," he snarled.

Eragon bit his lip to keep back a cry of anguish. Murtagh did hate him. He had loved his brother, had Murtagh was disgusted and outraged by it. "Why?" he snapped back.

Murtagh looked surprised at the retort, but wasted no time in replying. "Because you – you – goddammit, why did it have to be me?"

"Maybe because you're just, just, - oh, I don't know!" Eragon stopped, struggling to explain his infatuation with his brother. Why _did_ he love Murtagh? He was really a bastard at times… like now… "What've you got against it, anyway?"

"Got against it? You really want to know, Garrowsson?" Murtagh snarled. "Because you're my brother, you idiot! I have every right to have everything against it!"

Eragon felt stung, but he wasn't about to give up. "Maybe _you_ should leave then!"

"Me? You're the one who came in and wanted to talk about it, jackass!"

"Oh, so just because I wanted to get everything out in the open? You are the one who came here in the first place – if you hadn't shown up, none of this would have happened!"

"It's not my fault you met the bastard!" Murtagh roared. "Now get out!"

Eragon stared at Murtagh in disbelief. "Met who?" Was Murtagh referring to himself in third person? Surely he hadn't gone that crazy…

Murtagh took several deep breaths to calm himself. "HIM. You know what? I don't care. I don't. Goodbye, Garrowsson. Have a good fucking life." He went for the door and wrenched it open, almost succeeding in getting through it before Eragon leapt forward and grabbed him.

They both gasped and Eragon tripped, still managing to seize Murtagh's arm; they tumbled to the ground, tangled in each other's arms. Eragon tasted blood as he bit his lip, trying to keep himself focused, when he found himself in a very awkward position with Murtagh. As in, Murtagh was straddling him, he had his hand tangled in raven hair, and his knee was pressing against a rather important area on Murtagh's body. Not good.

Murtagh's expression tightened; his jaw was tightly clenched. Eragon felt fear rise in him, this time from someone he'd never thought he'd have to be afraid of – his own older brother. Murtagh obviously thought Eragon had done this on purpose; the older male's expression was tight and his eyes were wild; it was obvious he was restraining himself from something. _Probably trying to keep himself from killing me,_ Eragon thought weakly. _I'm dead…_

But… was it just his imagination, or was Murtagh leaning closer? No, it couldn't be. Eragon felt his breath come harder and faster just from being this close.

"Please," he whined softly, then froze at the sound of his own voice. It was slightly husky, pleading – what if Murtagh thought he was begging for… for… Eragon swallowed hard, feeling his pants tighten just at the thought of doing **that** with Murtagh. Shit, he was about to be murdered by Murtagh and all he could think about was **that**. Stupid hormones.

"Please, Murtagh," Eragon pleaded. "Don't hurt me, I can't help but feel like this. It isn't my fault I fell in love!"

Murtagh stared at him. "No," he agreed softly, then ever-so-gently stroked the trembling brunet's cheek. "But then again, it isn't my fault I fell in love, either."

Eragon froze in shock as Murtagh leaned down, closing the already almost nonexistent space between them and sealing their lip in a kiss. Everything in the room vanished – the dirty clothes on the floor, the two unmade beds in their respective corners, the darkness of the unlit room. Everything was simply gone, everything except the wonderfully soft feeling of his lips against his brother's. Eragon groaned softly. It was heaven, it was more than heaven, it was perfection and completion and… it was gone.

Everything – absolutely everything, even that beautiful soft feeling – was gone.

--------

**+That same evening, Murtagh's POV, same scene.+**

"Murtagh?"

Murtagh looked up from his bed in their room. Eragon stood in the doorway, framed by the outside light shining through the doorway into the dark room. Murtagh had not bothered to turn on any lights; he liked the dark.

The brunet looked almost angelic, with the halo of light around him, brown eyes soft and worried. Worried about him? Not that it mattered it Eragon was worried about him or not. Eragon was in love with Zak. Murtagh was so caught up in taking in every detail of his brother's perfect body, he forgot to answer.

"M-Murtagh, I… we need to talk…" Eragon trailed off, looking like he was struggling with something. Murtagh looked away – here it came. The confession. Eragon was going to say he was in love with Zak, and he, the protective older brother, was going to have it give his blessing._Give me an excuse_, Murtagh ordered himself silently. _Give me a reason that I can object to Eragon dating Zak without revealing that I love him. Come on… anything… anything to convince Eragon he can't see Zak…_But no inspiration came.

"Will you not speak to me?" Eragon asked softly. Murtagh flinched, refusing to allow himself to turn around and melt again, to allow himself to expose himself to his brother. "Won't you even look at me? Murtagh, I – I don't understand… why are you so angry with me?"

_Because you're in love with that bastard, Murtagh thought_, seething. But his anger vanished as soon as Eragon spoke again, this time his voice cracking. "Well?"

"I'm not mad," Murtagh found himself assuring his little brother. "I just…I… I just… Eragon, you…" _You're so beautiful_, he thought, wanting to yell it at the top of his lungs but retraining himself. _So damn beautiful. I can't tell you… you'll hate me. Eragon, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry._

"You know, don't you?" Eragon asked. Murtagh looked up, feeling confused, a bit angry, and… maybe just a bit afraid.

"Know what?" Murtagh queried, wanting to hear that perfect voice again, even if it was going to kill him.

"About… my crush."

Denial screamed itself endlessly in his mind. No, he thought wildly. No, no, no, no, no, no, no… NO! That bastard Zak – I'll kill him! I'll kill him! No, Eragon can't love him, can't, he – no!

He glared savagely at Eragon. "Get out," he snarled, already thinking of ways to tear a certain purple-haired teen apart.

Pain flashed in Eragon's eyes, then anger. "Why?"

Murtagh was surprised at the retort, but wasted no time in replying. "Because you – you – goddammit, why did it have to be me?" _Why the hell did it have to be me that fell in love with Eragon? _he wondered, but didn't say. He couldn't let Eragon know he loved him.

Once again, he wasn't expecting a retort, but, once again, he got one. "Maybe because you're just, just, - oh, I don't know!" Eragon stopped, looking frustrated. "What've you got against it, anyway?"

"Got against it? You really want to know, Garrowsson?" Murtagh snarled. "Because you're my brother, you idiot! I have every right to have everything against it!" _There_, he thought. _I can object to it because I'm his brother. I don't have to tell him I love him to explain myself. _

Eragon looked a bit stung, but Murtagh didn't expect him to just give up. And he was right. "Maybe _you_ should leave then!"

"Me? You're the one who came in and wanted to talk about it, jackass!"

"Oh, so just because I wanted to get everything out in the open? You are the one who came here in the first place – if you hadn't shown up, none of this would have happened!"

"It's not my fault you met the bastard!" Murtagh roared. "Now get out!"

Eragon's expression was surprised. "Met who?" he asked.

Murtagh took several deep breaths to calm himself. "HIM. You know what? I don't care. I don't. Goodbye, Garrowsson. Have a good fucking life." He stomped towards the door, wrenching it open. Not that it mattered, because just as he started to leave, he felt someone grab onto him and they fell together onto the floor.

Murtagh found it suddenly _very_ hard to breathe as he felt Eragon's knee press against his groin. He barely suppressed a groan, fighting as hard as he could against his instinctual reaction. What cruel, sadistic god had put him in this position? That was, straddling Eragon, with Eragon's hand in his hair, and Eragon's knee making him hard.

Shit, he thought weakly. It was taking all of his willpower to prevent himself from tearing off the brunet's clothes and taking him then and there. All he could think about was how incredibly easy it would be to just pin his arms down, bind him to the bed and do whatever he wanted to the defenseless body. Tie his legs to the bedposts, tease him for hours, fuck him all night long… no one was around, Garrow was at work, Roran was staying with Katrina, Thorn, Zak, Arya, and Saphira were all off seeing a movie… he could just…

"Please," Eragon whined. The noise almost sent Murtagh over the edge; he clenched his teeth, growling. _If Eragon had any idea what he was doing, I'd kill him_, Murtagh thought savagely. _Teasing me like this… I don't think I can take much more of it…If he had just shut up and left when I told him to…_

"Please, Murtagh," Eragon pleaded. "Don't hurt me, I can't help but feel like this. It isn't my fault I fell in love!"

Murtagh's heart nearly stopped. He remembered why how he had ended up in this position.

He remembered Zak.

. "No," he agreed softly, then ever-so-gently stroked the trembling brunet's cheek. "But then again, it wasn't my fault I fell in love, either."

He hadn't intended to, but somehow he just ended up doing it. With only the slightest hesitation, he leaned down and kissed his younger brother, his Eragon. Murtagh felt his eyes slid shut at first contact – it felt far better than he had ever imagined, and he had imagined. He couldn't remember having ever felt a feeling so intense from such a simple kiss. His heart nearly stopped when he heard Eragon make a little noise in the back of his throat – had the brunet just moaned? No, it couldn't be.

Hesitantly, Murtagh ran his tongue over his brother's lips, not expecting entry and not receiving it. Brought back to reality by this refusal, Murtagh broke the contact. He stared silently at his younger brother, who wasn't moving or responding. His eyes weren't even open. That was strange. "Eragon?" Murtagh asked hesitantly. There was no reply.

_He fainted_, he thought. He sighed and got off his brother, glancing back one last time at the peaceful body on the floor before he left.

_There's only one thing left to do. _Murtagh shuddered. _But I have to do it… I can't keep doing this to Eragon, or myself, or our friends. There's only one way out. _

"I love you," he whispered.

And then he was gone.

**Sorry this one's a bit short… but the next scene is too big to fit in with this one, and I really don't want to break it up. **

**To anyone who thought this chapter was going to be funny: Sorry. I prefer the angst version. Although a funny version could work pretty well… the only problem being that that would make this the climax of the story, and it's not, and the story would probably end here. Nope. Not gonna happen.**


	7. To Kill For Love

"Thorn?"

Thorn blinked at the young lady in his doorway, holding a phone in his hand loosely. "Arya? What are you doing at my apartment at six clock in the morning?"

"Standing outside your doorway, waiting for you to let me in."

The huge redhead leaned against said portal, crossing his arms over his chest. "Like I said, it's six in the morning."

A sigh escaped Arya's lips. "It's Murtagh."

Emerald eyes met forest-colored ones – Arya's brilliant, almost hypnotizing green, against Thorn's darker, more subdued shade. Something passed between them – an understanding of sorts. Something that few could see.

Silence. Then Thorn held the phone back to his ear. "I'm going to have to call you back," he said into it.

Then, a nod, and a gesture to come in.

A door closing, the soft finality of its shutting echoing gently through the hall.

-o-

Dead.

Eragon shuddered, struggling to hold back sobs tearing at his clenched throat. No,no,no – that endless word repeated itself hollowly in his head, pounding a rhythm that he could not escape from. No, no, no, no, no… Why had… it was his fault? It had been right after they fought. But why… this couldn't be right, Murtagh should have been angry and disgusted, not hurt or depressed or in pain.

_Murtagh had kissed him._

He had hurt Murtagh? How? Murtagh had been so angry… why had he…? He must have done it because of that anger. _He did it to hurt me_, Eragon thought, clenching his fists, a sob wrenching at his throat. And oh, it hurt. It hurt, it hurt, it hurt, it just _hurt_. Murtagh had done this; dead. Dead. Dead, and it hurt. Eragon shook, tears rolling down his face. Dead. It should have–

_Murtagh had kissed him._

It should have, could have, might have turned into something else._Something else?_ whispered a part of himself. _Like what? He should have killed you instead?_ Eragon shut that voice out, forced it away, didn't listen, trying to -

_Murtagh had kissed him._

Trying to what?

To deny this, he thought, the world disappearing in a blur as tears clouded his vision and he closed his reddened eyes. To deny this death, this body –

_Murtagh had kissed him._

-this grief, this pain – it hurt – to deny this reality of the body hanging from the rafters of the old building, swaying gently as though rocked to sleep by an unknown breeze.

Dead, dead, dead.

_Murtagh had kissed him._

The body staring almost accusingly at him, eyes wide open. Dead people were supposed to be peaceful. Your fault, the corpse almost seemed to taunt. All your fault, poor child. Poor, poor child, you didn't know Murtagh was going to kill –

"Eragon!"

Eragon shuddered, refusing to open his eyes. He knew it was the corpse who held him now, the corpse shaking and calling his name, breathing foul breath into his face –

"Let go," he sobbed, thrashing, trying to escape it's hold. But no use – the corpse only shook him harder.

"Eragon, you idiot, if you don't wake up now, I'll – I'll – oh, wake up!"

Eragon gasped, opening his eyes and nearly sobbing in relief. "Saphira?" he cried, disbelieving. How had Saphira gotten here? She didn't know where it was, only he and Murtagh knew. "How did you get here?"

"Zak said you wanted to talk to me. Eragon, are you alright?" His best friend's eyes cerulean eyes were lit with concern.

"Yes, but how – " Eragon asked hoarsely, pushing himself off the floor and staggering upright. The he noticed something odd.

He was in his room.

Saphira stared at him, obviously worried. "Eragon, you were collapsed on the floor. What happened?"

Eragon stared at her, eyes wide. "It was a dream," he choked out, then chuckled hysterically. "It was a nightmare!" Laughing with relief, he pulled Saphira into a tight hug. "He didn't die!"

"Who?" Saphira asked, puzzled. "Eragon, are you sure you're alright? You were on the floor… and Zak said something about you and Murtagh having problems… he didn't hurt you, did he?"

Eragon jerked away. "You talked to Zak?"

"Yes, he – "

"He_told_ you? He said he wouldn't say anything to you!"

"Eragon, you're not telling me anything!" Saphira said. "Zak called me at five-thirty this morning asking if I would talk to you, because you were upset. What happened?"

"Five-thirty?" Eragon asked. "What time is it?"

"Six. What happened?"

Eragon opened his mouth to speak, and explain he didn't know. Then he realized that was a lie.

Everything from last night came back in a flash. Confessing to Murtagh. Murtagh angry and… hurt? Murtagh leaving. Stopping him from leaving… falling on the floor.

Being kissed. By Murtagh.

Who had been angry that Eragon was in love with him.

Something wasn't right here.

"Um, I don't know," Eragon lied. "Saphira, where's Murtagh?"

Saphira glared savagely at him. "Eragon Garrowsson," she hissed furiously. "I woke up at five-thirty to be informed by a friend that you were extremely upset, and that you had possibly gotten into a fight with Murtagh. You didn't talk to me about it, I doubt you were _going_ to talk to me about it. I rushed here to find you on the floor – I thought you were hurt! And now you won't even tell me what's going on – you're too worried about Murtagh! You idiot, don't you realize he could have hurt you!"

"Murtagh wouldn't hurt me!" Eragon cried. "Saphira, what have you gotten against him? He's never hurt me, he protects me!"

"He might not want to, Eragon, but what you don't understand is that sometimes people do things they don't intend to!" Saphira snarled, ferocious and terrifying with every inch of her five-foot-four frame. "He's your brother, not your guardian angel! He's not perfect, he's not – "

"I never said he was perfect!"

"He's not able to control himself as well and he wants to, and he'll hurt you if he's angry enough, Eragon! He needs you much more than you need him, and he – "

" – you have no idea how much I need him – "

"You're obsessed with him, you don't need him, it's com – "

"Where is he?"

Saphira stopped, panting a bit. Her bright blues eyes where angry and narrow, fierce against her normally calm and wise features. "Eragon Garrowsson, you are not leaving here to go find your insane brother. He'll _kill_ you, for all you know."

"Murtagh won't hurt me." Eragon's voice trembled on the last two syllables – the words rang hollowly in the twilit room, eerily contradicting themselves.

Saphira's arms crossed over her chest. "What happened?"

"I told him everything, and he freaked out. I fainted, and he left," Eragon said quietly.

"Ah."

Awkward silence filled the room. Then Saphira spoke, voice oddly calm despite the shouting only moments ago. "What did he say?"

"He…" Eragon thought, trying to remember what Murtagh had told him, but everything was a bit blurry. "Well, he said he didn't like it because he was my brother, and he said it wasn't his fault. And then he said it – "

He stopped, voice failing him. "He," Eragon muttered, gaze unfocusing. "He, kissed. He…"

Eragon shook his head and looked away from her. "I need to find him. I think something… something bad is going to happen."

"No," Saphira said firmly. "Give him some time to cool off first."

Eragon blinked his chocolate eyes. "What? Saphira, I _need_ to see him _now_."

"No you do not," she retorted. "He's just as hotheaded as you are, Eragon. You're going to talk with the others, then after he's had time to cool off, we'll find him together."

"You don't understand, I had a dream that he…"

The protest sputtered and died as Eragon realized just how ridiculous he sounded. An annoyed look was shot his way.

"It was so real," Eragon said almost pleadingly. "Almost – "

"Almost," Saphira said. "Almost, but not. Everything is fine, Eragon. We need to tell the others."

"It's not fine," Eragon insisted, force entering his tone. "You keep saying you want to fix this, but you won't let me talk to him alone! I need to fix this Saphira, please. Where is he?"

"I want it fixed to, but I will not allow you to get hurt. Eragon, we will speak to him together when he's calmed down."

"We'll never get to talk to him again if I don't talk to him now. _Please_."

"It was a dream."

"I don't care, he's going to do something stupid. Something bad."

"That's his choice, not yours."

"It's my choice to go and find him, and you won't let me!"

"That's because you're an idiot! The last sleep you had – not counting the hour you spent unconscious on the floor – was nearly thirty hours ago! You haven't eaten since lunch yesterday, and to top it off, you've been talking to _Zak_! You're not in your right mind, and I won't let you get hurt!"

"Fine," Eragon growled.

Saphira blinked. "Fine? You're not going to talk to Murtagh?"

"No, fine, I won't argue with you. You're not going to listen. I'm going to go find him."

Saphira stared at him, stupefied, as he crossed the room, yanked open the door, went through, and slammed it. "Eragon, wait!" she protested. "Eragon, you idiot, you don't know what you're doing!"

Eragon ignored his best friend, the one person he always listened to, the one person he could always go to, and the one person he could ever truly hope to stay friends with. Because right now she was wrong – dead wrong. Murtagh would never hurt him. Murtagh needed him, and he wasn't going to stay still and listen to Saphira try and talk him out of it.

Purposefully, he strode to the door leading out of his house. No hesitation. No fear. For he had realized two things – that no matter what, Murtagh would not hurt him. Murtagh would simply not allow himself to. The other thing he realized was, there had been a misunderstanding. Something had been off about their conversation earlier – thinking back, Eragon saw that he had never openly said "I love you." He said he'd been in love.

And Murtagh had _kissed_ him.

Something was very wrong.

-o-

_I've got to do this._

Murtagh's hands trembled around the item he held as he stood before Zak's door. _I have to,_ he thought, refusing to let his mind to wander to impossible possibilities, to false hope. There was no other way. He had to.

For Eragon.

His shaking hand knocked on the door.

The door opened.

"Hey," said the purple-haired teen.

Murtagh blinked. This was… unexpected. He was supposed to wait a few minutes, gather up the courage to either knock again or walk right in, and then find Zak, who was supposed to look very surprised to see him. Zak wasn't supposed to be… had Zak been waiting for him? No, he…

"Hey," he muttered back. His pale fingers clenched around the rope in his hand. _Got to do it._

_So just _do _it._

"Need something?" Zak asked coldly, smirking at him.

Murtagh glared at the cocky bastard. "Yeah," he said through gritted teeth. "Care to come out here?"

Zak blinked at him, looking rather surprised. Not pleasantly. He glanced down at the rope in Murtagh's hand. Then to Murtagh pained face, grief etched in his face and darkened circles under his eyes. "No, actually. Care to come in here?"

Murtagh shook his head. "Why not out here? It's stuffy in there."

"I just got off the phone with a friend, and he might call back." Zak turned away, walking further into the house. "Come in or don't."

Murtagh didn't move for a moment. When he did, he glared at Zak's back, wanting so badly to hate his longtime friend and comarade – but he could not. Not really, despite the fact that this was the person who had stolen his brother from him. How much simpler this would be if he could just hate those he wanted to, but he couldn't .

Zak led him to a living room, then plopped down a couch. He glanced up at Murtagh, who was eyeing him with a weird expression. Very thankful that he kept a gun under the cushions of this particular couch, Zak smiled. He always smiled; happy, nervous, depressed, or drunk, he was grinning. It was his trademark, and it kept people confused.

He wondered briefly if Murtagh was one of the few who weren't confused by it.

"You don't have to be so freaked out," Murtagh said, sitting down on the overstuffed chair across from the couch.

_So much for keeping him confused,_ Zak thought. _Well, I've still got a gun… wish I had a knife though. Oh, wait I do. Top drawer, table next the couch._

"I wanted to tell you something," Murtagh confessed. _I've got to do this,_ he repeated in his head. It was quickly becoming a mantra he clung to. _For Eragon._

"I want him to be happy," Murtagh said, oddly calm. Zak kept his eyes on Murtagh's face, refusing to look at the rope held tightly in his friend's pale hand.

"He_is_ your brother."

"Yes, but that's not it," Murtagh said softly, an odd smile finding it's way onto his face. "Zak, I'm not sure if you can make him ha – "

The phone rang.

"That's my friend," Zak explained, leaping up to snatch the phone beside the couch. "It you?" he spoke into the phone. A moment later, he nodded. "Yeah, I called Saphira and – yeah, he's here." A pause. "Rope." Another pause. "I know. That's not going to help, he – _what_?"

Zak glanced at Murtagh, eyes wide and mouth hanging open. "Oh," he said after a moment, looking away. "You – give the damn phone to her." A glance was spared in Murtagh's direction. _Stay here_, Zak mouthed to him. Murtagh nodded obediently as Zak walked out of the room. He had no intention of leaving.

-o-

Eragon and Saphira jumped and whirled around to see Thorn's car braking in front of the house, tires squealing with the sudden stop.

"Get in," Thorn ordered, rolling down the driver's window.

"Hell no," Eragon growled. "Where's Murtagh?"

Saphira grabbed Eragon's arm. "Stop worrying about him!"

"Look, we really don't have time for this," Thorn snapped. "Eragon, get in!"

Saphira's bright eyes snapped to Thorn. "Why do you want him to go with you?"

"It has to do with Murtagh."

Without further complaint, Eragon yanked open the car door and dove in. Saphira dove after him, tackling him and inadvertently shoving tumbling into the car. "I just spent the last few minutes trying to convince him he's going to get hurt by talking to Murtagh and you do this?" Saphira demanded furiously from on top of her best friend.

"Yeah. Buckle up, you two." Thorn backed out of the driveway in record time, speeding off down the road as Saphira and Eragon disentangled themselves from each other's limbs.

Saphira took a deep breath when she was finally seated properly. "Thorn, look. Murtagh's really mad. He's going to do something he'll regret, and I'd rather that thing isn't hurting Eragon. We need to wait before we do this."

"Normally, yeah. But unfortunately, Murtagh is going to do something _really_ stupid if Eragon isn't there, as opposed to doing something moderately stupid when Eragon is there. We need to talk him out of it."

"What's he going to do then?" Saphira sighed, leaning back. There was no way to win against both her boyfriend and her best friend. "I'll agree to help so long as no one is hurt."

"I'll tell you in a minute," Thorn muttered, keeping his eyes on the road.

"He's going to kill himself?" Eragon asked. Yet there was no question in his voice. He knew his premonition had been correct.

He knew the dead body would be Murtagh's.

-o-

Murtagh rose off the couch, rope held loosely in his hands. He had come to explain himself to Zak, to give his blessing and threaten to hurt him on Eragon's behalf should the brunet be hurt, but found he no longer could.

He had done his very best. He really had. A bitter smiled curled around Murtagh's lips. His best intentions had yielded the worst results – all he wanted to do was make Eragon happy and be happy himself. Yet now he was the very source of Eragon's pain.

He needed to be around Eragon. Eragon needed to date Zak to be happy. He could not bear to be around an unhappy Eragon, yet he could not bear to let Zak have Eragon, nor could he leave – without his brother, his sun, his very life-blood, he would simply shrivel and die like a flower without water. He couldn't leave and he couldn't stay.

But he could die.

For Eragon, he could die.

He knotted the rope around the banister of a upward staircase, turning his back to the area in which he had sat moments ago. He tugged the cord, making sure it was tight – there could be no mistakes. With painstaking care, he knotted the noose. With tenderness, he ran his fingers over the rough material, thinking of it's stark contrast to the smoothness of his brother's perfect skin, and it's similarity to Eragon's callused hands, rough from a fascination with the outdoors.

With grace, he climbed the stairs and swung over to the other side, so only the ledge of the steps separated him from death.

And with tears spitefully pricking at his hazel eyes, he stepped into empty space.

For a fraction of a second, everything froze. His pounding heart stilled, his tears froze in their wet tracks, his feet hung suspended above the ground. Thoughts whirled in his head, tearing at his mind, moving too quickly to even be properly thought.

He thought of his Eragon, his brother and his love. The soft brown hair, curling ever-so-slightly and catching the light. His eyes, deer brown and gentle. His perfect lips, his soft lips, curled into an innocent smile. His neck. His shoulders. His delicate, yet somehow strong hands. His arms, wiry muscle twining within them. His lean chest.

"Eragon," he gasped. "I l – "

And then all thought vanished, and he fell, the rope taut around his pale neck.

Zak frowned as he put down the phone. _Arya really thinks it will work_, he thought. _Thorn, too. Well, it might, if Murtagh doesn't kill me. And if Eragon -_

Then he opened the door leading back to the room where he left Murtagh, and found himself greeted by a rather disconcerting sight.

"What the hell?" Zak breathed, eyes fixed on the body hanging from the staircase.

The pale teen was gasping soundlessly, feet jerking into empty air, eyes shut tightly and leaking tears. His fingers grabbed at the rope strung tightly against his neck, gaining no purchase against the cord that was digging into his neck. His normally pallid face was a light shade of blue, turning purple – Zak's stupefied brain could only wonder, shocked, how long Murtagh had been hanging there.

The purple-haired stood stock still for a moment, watching with a kind of horrified fascination as Murtagh gasped and choked. Then everything clicked into place, and he sprinted to the table next the couch, yanking open the top drawer and snatching out the knife he kept hidden under several decoy books. He practically leapt up the stairs, stopping at the place were the rope was tied, slashing it, and Murtagh fell with a thump to the ground.

He vaulted over the banister, landing beside Murtagh's shuddering body. "Please don't be dead," Zak muttered, crouching down and loosening the limp rope from around Murtagh's bruised neck. "Please don't, you bastard."

Murtagh groaned, gasped, then coughed, eyes flickering open and closed. "Thank you, God," Zak said reverently. "Murtagh, can you hear me?"

"Of course," Murtagh choked, panting desperately for breath. "Why… the h-hell… d-did you just… do that?"

"Yeah, well, sorry for saving your life," Zak growled.

"Y-you… should be," Murtagh growled back. "Did it… look… _accidental_ to you?"

"You might want to kill yourself, but that doesn't mean that your friends are going to let you." Zak's voice was just a little angry. His near-constant grin was complete gone and showed no sign of returning; he glared at his friend. Then he took a breath, counting to ten. "Happy place," he muttered, closing his eyes for a brief second.

"You know, sometimes… I think that all the stress… therapy your parents put you though… worked a bit too well," Murtagh panted. His breath was easing now, no longer so desperate.

Zak opened his eyes and glared down at Murtagh. "Sometimes I think you need therapy. Hell, I _know_ you need therapy. Anger management. I thought that rope was for me, you know. But I suppose you're not the murderer type."

Murtagh staggered upright. "Zak," he managed to say, face livid. "You don't get it."

"Get what?" Zak asked indifferently.

"I want to die. I hate myself. Everything I do just makes it worse!"

"You're right," Zak told him calmly. "You're a worthless bastard who treats everyone horribly and constantly makes things worse. You deserve to die. Slowly."

Murtagh stared at him.

"That's what you're about to say, right?" Zak asked. "And since you were about to say it, you believe it, right? And since you believe it, you agree with me."

"You – " Murtagh stuttered. "I don't – "

"No, you don't agree with me." Zak leaned against the wall. "You're not thinking straight. What did you make worse?"

"Eragon," Murtagh said, looking away. That single word made it's way through clenched teeth, two pained and torn syllables.

"Eragon," Zak said almost lovingly.

Murtagh's gaze snapped from the floor to Zak's face at the tone of voice he used.

"Your cute little brother." Zak gave a little mental whimper of terror as Murtagh's expression steadily became angrier. _You really shouldn't be baiting him_, said a little voice. _He's about ready to kill you already and all you did was call Eragon cute._

_Arya told me Murtagh was in love with Eragon, but it might not be true. I want to hear him say it, and I want to know why he's so angry with me. I _need _to bait him_, he explained to the little voice.

_Oh. Do try not to get us killed_, said the little voice back.

_I'll try_, Zak promised. "Yeah, Eragon. Your brother." He let a slightly misty look enter his eyes.

Murtagh's eyes narrowed. "You like him."

"You care?" Zak replied easily, sidestepping the question. "Well, I suppose you are his brother."

"Yeah," Murtagh agreed, flinching at the words. He obviously did not like the idea. His mask was in pieces – Murtagh had lost any thought of keeping his emotions down, much less keeping them off his face.

"You know, he's really… well," Zak said. "I know this is getting off-subject, but he's gay, right?"

Murtagh shot him a murderous look. "Yeah. Can we please stop talking about my brother that way?"

"Fine. So, what's this problem with Eragon?"

Murtagh took a deep breath. "It's none of your business," he said flatly, and turned to leave.

Zak caught his arm. "Yeah, it is."

Murtagh tore his arm out of Zak's grasp, whirling around to face his long time friend and imagined rival in love. "You don't know anything!" he roared, drawing back his fist.

Just in time, Zak ducked. Murtagh's fist swung over this head, putting the normally expert fighter off-balance. Murtagh had missed. That was bad – Murtagh only missed when he was too angry to think. Thankfully, Murtagh wanted to yell more than he wanted to kill Zak.

"You don't know anything!" Murtagh shouted helplessly, tearing trickling down his face. "You don't know that he loves you, you don't know how much it hurts when I see him look at you, you don't know how much I need him! Why should you get him, when you don't even care? When you won't keep him or stay faithful or love him? Why should you get the chance to hurt him when I won't even get the chance to love him?"

The raven-haired teen was sobbing openly now, his once dignified, indifferent face wracked with grief and pain. "I just screw everything up," he groaned. "I-I came to have a place to live, and instead I fell in love. And it hurts. It hurts, it hurts, it hurts! I need him, I can't breath without him, every time he smiles everything's okay! Every time he's sad my heart cracks and shatters, and I can't take it anymore! I can't!

He slumped the floor. "I can't take it, it hurts, it h-hurts… He loves you, and I can't let you have him, but he needs to be happy, I can't live with him being depressed. I just keep hurting him and it hurts me to hurt him and it all just hurts. I want to make him happy, and he needs to be with you to be happy, so I can't be here. I can't leave either. I can't live without him. So I want to die."

Murtagh's voice gave out and trailed off. His form shuddered, then slowly he looked up into Zak's face, tearstained eyes pleading. "I-I want to die… please. I want him to be happy – and he loves you. I love him with more than just brotherly feeling. I love Eragon."

Silence filled the room.

"Murtagh?" a voice asked, disbelieving. Murtagh froze, eyes impossibly wide, and turned to see Eragon, Saphira, and Thorn in the doorway.

"Oh, god, no," Murtagh whispered, shrinking away. "E-Eragon…"


	8. Explanation

When Thorn had driven to Zak's house, Eragon had been kind of surprised. But he got out of the car anyway, and followed Thorn as he headed directly to the front door, Saphira tailing silently behind. The sky was lit softly by the first tints of sunrise, and the air was still cold with the September morning chill. The mansion was ominous and huge, all the light off but the two on the ground level next to the door, and one on the upper right side. Eragon shivered, wishing he'd brought his jacket – he'd forgotten it in the rush.

"Not a word," Thorn whispered to them, stopping just before the door and motioning them closer. He spoke quietly in the phone he'd been holding since before Eragon had first gotten into his car, then snapped it shut, face grim.

"Why are we here?" Eragon demanded softly. "You said it had to do with Murtagh. Explain."

Thorn only pressed his finger to his lips. "Listen."

For a moment, there was only the sound of crickets in the distance and the first trills of birds in the morning. Then, faintly, Eragon heard someone swear – it sounded a bit like Zak. A short pause followed, then a faint, almost inaudible _thump _as something hit the ground. Another noise after that - not speech this time. A gasp and a cough, or maybe a groan. Another voice joined the first; Eragon recognized Murtagh's light tenor voice instantly, despite a hoarse quality it seemed to now possess. Though Eragon couldn't make out the words, he could tell his brother was outraged.

He could make out nothing. Then:

"…hate myself. Everything I do just makes it worse!"

Thorn flinched. Eragon bit his lip, wanting to comfort his brother, but wanting to know what was going to happen more. He strained his ears to hear more, but while he could still hear them talking, he couldn't make out anymore words now that Murtagh had calmed down and was no longer yelling.

"Thorn," Eragon breathed, "Why are we eavesdropping on them? What's going on?"

Thorn pressed a finger to his lips. "Shh," he breathed. "Listen. Zak's going to get Murtagh say something important that you have to hear, okay?"

Eragon hesitated, then nodded. "Okay."

But he couldn't hear anything. It was getting hard, sitting there, knowing Murtagh was angry and hurt just a few feet away, yet forcing himself to remain ignorant and away on Thorn's request. It was almost literally driving him insane, sitting still like this while Murtagh was hurting nearby and yet untouchable - the food held just out of reach of a starving man.

Finally, he moved forward and, quickly and silently, opened the door; Thorn gave him a warning glance, which Eragon promptly ignored. He was far too busy staring wide-eyed at the drama unfolding before him; somewhere to his left, Saphira gasped.

Murtagh's back was to him. Zak was facing him, but only gave him a quick glance. Murtagh wasn't just angry, he was livid – completely outraged. He was yelling furiously, but it was the words that Eragon's attention – the unbelievable words coming out of his brother' s mouth.

"I want him to be happy," Murtagh finished, voice cracked and strained from emotion. "and he loves you. I love him with more than just a brotherly feeling. I love Eragon."

Eerie silence filled the room for a moment, Zak meeting Eragon's eyes and Murtagh shaking, collapsed on the floor, still unaware that he had justed confessed everything in front of Eragon, Saphira, and Thorn.

"Murtagh?" Eragon exclaimed, disbelieving, once he managed to speak.

"Oh, god, no," Murtagh whispered, whirling around, eyes wide, and then shrinking away. "E-Eragon…"

"Murtagh?" Eragon breathed again, eyes huge and fixed on his brother as if seeing him – truly seeing him – for the first time. For, in essence, he was. Never had Murtagh been so bare, so very defenseless and exposed. So filled with pain that had been hidden behind thick walls for long years.

Murtagh's handsome face twisted with agony, the tears spilling down his cheeks, unable to stop now that they had begun. His shuddering form wracked with sobs, he retreated, scrambling upright, and backing away from the source of his misery until his back thumped against the wall. He slumped against it, pounding his fist a single time into the hardwood wall – a sign of defiance, anger, frustration, and yet, at the same time, a show of defeat.

The emotions he had fought so valiantly came crashing down on him; all of the pain from Eragon's rejection, all of the frustration of being unable to do anything about it, all of the anger at Zak for stealing the one thing he treasured above all else – and that gentle, calm feeling Eragon could bestow upon him with a soft look.

And it hurt. Oh, it hurt – Murtagh shuddered and let his head droop, not caring how very exposed he was to these four here. His mask was gone, forgotten, shattered into infinitesimal pieces, shattered like his very being.

"Murtagh," Eragon said – almost reverently – and took a single step forward.

Murtagh's eyes lifted for a second to meet Eragon's. Dark hazel, hollow with grief, shadowed by sleep loss, reddened by tears. Confused, hopeful brown eyes. Then Eragon moved forward once more, and Murtagh flinched, torn between frustration and impossible hope. The very source of his motivation for living was his motivation for dying. The brother that had driven gentler emotions into his hardened heart was slowly tearing that softened tissue apart.

And what could he do but give in?

He slammed his fist into the ground again. "Damn it to hell," he groaned. He looked up, unable to keep the pleading out of his stare. "E-Eragon, I - "

A car door slammed, breaking Murtagh's words off abruptly. Thorn, Zak, and Saphira all glanced at the door simultaneously; Thorn looked puzzled, Saphira looked irritated, and Zak looked hesitant. He glanced at Murtagh, who glared back.

Eragon hadn't even jumped when the car door had slammed; he hadn't even heard it. Murtagh had only flinched. They stared at each other still, Murtagh still broken and apologetic, and Eragon still confused and hopeful, and neither quite understanding the other. Vaguely, Murtagh realized whoever had gotten out of their car was now rapping on the closed door, Zak was moving to open the door, and Eragon was still staring at him.

He looked away – both of them did. Murtagh out of shame, Eragon out of embarrassment for even thinking that Murtagh had just said… Murtagh hadn't, had he? _Yes_, Eragon assured himself. _He did. He's... in love with me._

"Huh?"

Eragon glanced in surprise at the door. Arya stood there, looking taken aback by the scene that was presented – Zak holding a rather large knife, Thorn and Saphira standing together on the sidelines, Murtagh on the floor with a bruised neck, Eragon standing near his brother looking rather dazed, and a rope in pieces on the ground and tied to the staircase.

She opened and closed her mouth several times. Then suddenly she beamed. "It worked?" she exclaimed. "He confessed?"

Murtagh froze.

Eragon blinked. "What?"

"The setup – it worked, didn't it?" Arya breathed excitedly. "Murtagh confessed. I can't believe it!" Thorn motioned urgently for her to shut up, but it was too late.

Murtagh's eyes narrowed. "What?" he growled.

"It's not - " Thorn said quickly. Too quickly.

Murtagh shoved himself upright, his growl cutting off Thorn's words. He glared at them, all three of them – it had been a setup. He couldn't believe. This entire time, they'd been playing this cruel joke.

His thoughts whirled in his head, tearing at the inside of his skull, almost forcing him back onto his knees – the pain of it all was ripping at him still, still bringing tears to his eyes. He bared his teeth, something between a pained moan and a growl forcing itself of his throat, and glared at his supposed friends, wanting nothing more than to throw them from his life forever – or through a window. And it hurt. All he could think of was one thing, a million things… the single thought that they were hurting him, bad, he wanted to lash back out at his torturers.

But he couldn't. Like the good little victim he was, he couldn't stop believing something was wrong, he hadn't interpreted something right, they couldn't be doing this on purpose. Simply couldn't. Zak and Arya were his friends, no matter what they did. Thorn was practically his brother. Eragon _was_ his brother.

More angry at himself than them for this, he slammed his fist to the wall in frustration and, with one last glance at the object of his affection – hell, the center of his universe – he strode to the door. He ignored Arya's puzzled look, Saphira's wide eyes, and Thorn's protest. The only person he would have stopped for made no move to halt him, so he simply kept going. He stormed out the door, fumbling with his car keys.

He needed to think.

Eragon stood motionless several moments after Murtagh left. Shock was the most prominent expression on his face - then confusion, then hope, then fear. When he finally regained control of his sense, he turned and gave Thorn a hard look. "Explain," he said flatly.

Thorn frowned hesitantly. "It's kind of hard to – "

Eragon glared at him. "My brother just had an emotional breakdown in front of all of us, yelled at Zak for being the object of my affection when he is most certainly is _not_, and then ran out of the house when Arya just shows up and starts talking about setting people up. I'm sick of having no idea what the hell is going on – Murtagh's acting crazy, you won't tell me anything, and I'm the only one who doesn't seem like they know everything! Someone is going to explain what's wrong with Murtagh right now, and then you're going to tell me why you brought me here and why Murtagh was here and why he thinks I'm in love with Zak. _Now_."

Zak smiled nervously. "Well, it _is_ kind of complicated…"

"Zak, shut up," Arya said quietly, her earlier smile gone. "I have a question, too. When I came in and thought it worked, Eragon hadn't said anything yet, had he?"

Zak shook his head silently.

"Oh," Arya muttered, sitting down. "Shit. So Murtagh thinks we did this to hurt him."

Thorn nodded. Eragon growled, and they looked at him again. "What," he said coldly. "Is going on?"

Zak and Arya both looked at Thorn, who hesitated a moment more. Then he finally spoke. "Zak told me about your conversation with him. Arya was worried about Murtagh, and they'd had a similar conversation she told me about. We thought it would be best if we brought you here, then have you hear everything straight from Murtagh's mouth. Zak was supposed to be taunting him into saying it at just the right time. We arranged it all over the phone."

Arya nodded. "Zak told us that he'd called Saphira and asked her to check on you, so we thought you might be at her house. I went there and Thorn went to your house, and whoever found you was supposed to pick you up and bring you here." She averted her eyes. "For what it's worth... I'm sorry. I just assumed..."

Saphira scowled suddenly. She still had some residual anger from her fight with Eragon earlier, and the drama apparently hadn't helped. "So Murtagh not only thinks that Eragon is in love with him – " she jerked a finger in Zak's direction – "but now he thinks you set him up for humiliation."

Eragon shook his head suddenly. "This makes no sense. I told him I was in love with him earlier. He was _mad_ at me."

Thorn blinked at him, surprised. "Really? What exactly did you say?"

The brunet thought hard, before it finally came to him. He frowned as he spoke, piecing it together bit by bit. "I asked him if he – " He stopped suddenly, eyes widening. "Oh," he breathed.

"What?" Saphira asked suddenly.

"I asked him if he'd found out about my crush," Eragon said softly. "He thought…"

Saphira crossed her arms and looked at him. "Well, what are you going to do about it?"

Eragon stared at her. "What do you mean, what am I going to – "

"You're a complete idiot sometimes, Eragon," she interrupted. "First of all, you let him leave. You're supposed to grab onto him and beg him to stay, or just spin him around and kiss him. And if he does manage to leave, you're supposed to _go after him_. Remember that next time, will you? Men!" she exclaimed disgustedly. She turned to face her boyfriend. "Thorn, where do you think Murtagh went?"

"Er, probably that little lake," he muttered, bewildered by her sudden change in attitude. "That's where he always goes when he's upset. The water calms him."

"Where is it?" she demanded.

"West end of the park. Why?"

"Because Eragon is going to go talk to him. Right now. Come on, Eragon." Saphira grabbed Eragon's arm and began to drag him determinedly to the door. Eragon squawked indignantly and thrashed a bit, but Saphira, despite her small size, had the strength of a dragon. Eragon wasn't going anywhere she didn't want him to.

-o-

Murtagh was still breaking.

He stared blankly out into the water, listening silently to the soft sound of waves lapping gently on the shore and mallards squawking as they splashed and slid around in the water. He'd been her for over an hour, just staring at the ripples and wondering absentmindedly how long he'd have to stay under to drown himself.

The hurt wasn't quite so painful now – he'd managed to shut quite a bit of it out – but it was still there. The wound was stitched shut, but it wasn't healing. Not really. Every time he thought of Eragon, a stitch would be torn out of that wound. Every time he wondered what Zak had that he didn't, something dug sharply into that cut. Every time he was reminded of his confession, of how his supposed friends had set him up for humiliation in front of the one person he truly love, a new wound appeared. He was falling apart at the seams.

He shivered against the morning chill, remembering vaguely that he hadn't slept since yesterday night.

_Sleep_, he thought wearily. _Sounds kind of nice… except I can't go back home, I can't go to Thorn, Arya, or Zak and sleep at their house, and I can't sleep out here._ He let out a hoarse laugh, realizing that he wouldn't sleep even if he had somewhere to do it. If he slept, he'd have to wake up again – wake up to all of this mess. It'd been like it was happening all over again.

"Murtagh?"

His eyes went wide and he refused to turn them from the water. Was that Eragon's voice? No, it couldn't be. He swallowed hard and forced himself to turn, wanting to prove to himself it wasn't his brother that had called his name.

It was.

Eragon stood there, slightly out of breath, hair mussed and clothing rumpled. Saphira stood beside and slightly behind him, looking only marginally better. She glanced between them briefly, then brushed herself off. "I'm going home. Eragon, I'm going to call you when I wake up and you better answer when I do. I'm going to want to hear everything." She stalked off.

Murtagh stared at his brother in disbelief. "What are you _doing_ here?"

"Looking for you," Eragon panted, straightening up.

"Why?" Murtagh snapped, suddenly remembering why he was here in the first place. "So you can taunt me a bit? See if you can set me up for another nervous breakdown because you're bored. Just go away." He turned around again.

Eragon's voice was slightly pleading. "I've been stumbling around this park for the last hour looking for you, Murtagh, can you at least tell why you're mad?"

"I heard what Arya said," Murtagh retorted, still not facing him.

"She didn't mean – they weren't – well, yes, they were, but I wasn't helping them, and they didn't mean for you to confess like that. Actually, they did, but – "

"Shut up and leave," Murtagh said flatly. "I don't want to talk to you."

Eragon shook his head. "No. Tell me what's wrong. I want to talk."

"Too bad."

Eragon grabbed his shoulder and spun him around. The fierceness in his eyes startled Murtagh. "Just tell me, dammit!"

"What am I supposed to tell you, huh?" Murtagh cried, wrenching himself out of Eragon's grip. "I'm in fucking love with you! I know it's wrong, and I really don't care. And you know what? I was willing to step out of your way, Eragon. I was ready to leave, because I knew you didn't want me. I tried to leave, but Zak – " he gave a frustrated noise. "I'm sorry, okay? I'm sorry I fell in love with you."

He took a deep breath, then shoved Eragon away and began to march towards his car. The brunet wasn't willing to let him. Once again, Eragon grabbed him.

"Hold on a minute, okay?" Eragon demanded. "I'm trying to apologize. We weren't trying to hurt you, it's just complicated. I'm in lo…" He blushed and stumbled over his words, not quite able to get them out.

"In love with Zak, yes, you told me," Murtagh said bitterly. "Let _go_, Eragon. I want to be left alone."

Eragon shook his head. "I'm not in love with Zak."

"You said you were!" Murtagh's reply was angry. "Was that just some sick game, then, too? See how jealous you could make me?"

"You're not listening to me!"

"Because I'm sick of you manipulating me, you – " Murtagh drew his breath in sharply. He groaned, then tugged his arm, trying to loosen Eragon's death grip on it. "Eragon, look, you're just making this worse. I don't know what's been going on, but… I don't think you're hurting me on purpose. But you _are_ hurting me. Just let go before I loose it."

Eragon shook his head for a third time. "_No_. You're going to listen to me first. I won't let you go until you do."

Murtagh yanked against Eragon's hold, but the brunet was strong, and the position he was in gave him an advantage – without the element of surprise, Murtagh couldn't loosen Eragon's grip. Short of hurting the brunet, Murtagh wasn't going to get free, but he struggled anyway. Eragon, however, was determined that Murtagh was not going to get away again - he'd already tried to do this, and he wasn't going to fail a second time.

"Just _listen_ to me," Eragon panted.

"_No_," Murtagh growled back. "Just let me leave, Eragon, I don't want to be around you while you're with Zak, I can't – "

"Dammit, Murtagh!" Eragon cried. "Will you just shut up and hear what I have to say for a second! I've spent this entire time trying to tell you I'm in love with you, and you're not making it easy!"

Murtagh stared at him in shock. "What?" he breathed, completely frozen, disbelief etched into this face.

Eragon eyes were fixed on his for the first time since they'd begun speaking. He was still panting slightly, face flushed from the cold and their brief struggle, brown locks of hair in disarray. Somehow he was the most beautiful thing Murtagh had ever seen. "I love you, you bastard. I'm in love with you, not Zak."

"But you said – " Murtagh managed to choke out before being interrupted again.

"I was talking about _you_ when I asked if you knew about my crush," Eragon told him fiercely. He pulled them together closely. "I've been in love with you this entire time, I thought you were avoiding me because you'd found out and hated me. Thorn, Arya, and Zak all knew we were in love with each other and Zak was trying to get you to confess in front of me so I'd say it back only Arya came in and thought it'd already happened and you thought it was a sick joke – "

Murtagh crushed Eragon to his chest desperately, enjoying the soft sensation of warm flesh against his own, as well as Eragon own special scent - that almost spicy, almost sweet, almost bitter, utterly indescribable aroma that followed him everywhere. All those thoughts that were suffocating him earlier, now replaced with a single phrase, repeated like a mantra in Murtagh's mind. _He loves me_, it sang. "How the hell did that happen?" he mumbled to himself.

Eragon made a choking, almost sobbing noise, and pulled him closer. "Who cares?" he replied, voice shaking. He shut his eyes tightly. This was so strange, almost surreal - like it was happening to someone else, like it shouldn't be happening at all. Like it was so ridiculous that his mind simply chose to accept it rather than try to analyze it.

Murtagh suddenly shoved him away. "You really mean it," he breathed is disbelief. Eragon blinked, wondering what he meant. "You really mean it, you're in love with me?"

Eragon didn't even bother to answer, just jerked forward and crushed their lips together.

Murtagh moaned into the kiss, hugging the smaller form tightly before shoving him against a tree near the water's edge. The kiss wasn't passionate - on the contrary, it was chaste; it wasn't lustful or sweet or loving. It was, in a word, desperate. Soft lips pressed hard against lips chapped from the cold, hands fumbling and exploring as if to memorize every last ridge of the body they could now touch freely. Then it lost it's chastity as Eragon ran his tongue over Murtagh's lips, wanting to feel more - no, needing to feel more, to scout out and claim that territory as his. Murtagh obliged without hesitation, and the kiss deepened.

"Eragon," Murtagh breathed as their lips parted. His eyes were lit up with a glorious light; Eragon couldn't help but feel smug that he was the one doing this, that only a few minutes ago Murtagh had been depressed.

His breath caught in his throat as Murtagh kissed his again, then slid lower to nibble his neck. The brunet had never imagined that being bitten, of all things, could make your skin tingle or your sense skyrocket like that. It was incredible – no wonder people had sex, if just a bit of teeth could do something like that.

Murtagh panted softly, pulling himself away. "Say that again," he begged desperately. "Please, Eragon. Say it again."

"I love you," Eragon murmured, almost like he was astonished at the fact himself. "I'm in love with you. And you love me back."

Murtagh nodded and embraced his again, and then simply held him. Held him tightly and gently, both enjoying the feel of their bodies pressed flush together. "You love me," he whispered again, voice full of amazement. "You love me."

Eragon nodded his agreement, wrapping his arm's around the older boy's neck. For a moment, he wondered what the hell was going to happen next.

Then, as Murtagh bent down to kiss him again, he decided he really didn't care.


	9. Endings

When they finally managed to pull themselves away from each other at the park, Murtagh was panting, his black hair ruffled, his cheeks flushed and contrasting sharply with the rest of his skin. A dazed expression had attached itself to his face – Eragon was much the same, his hair just was ruffled, his cheeks just as pink.

"W-we need to get home," Murtagh muttered, eyes still fixed on Eragon's lips, lifting up to examine the brunet's soft brown eyes.

"Yeah," Eragon breathed. Both of them were fixated by the other's gaze. After a long moment, Eragon managed to look away, and Murtagh seemed to snap out of it and move away so that he was no longer trapping Eragon against the tree. Eragon stumbled slightly, and Murtagh reflexively caught his arm. Tugging him back upright, Murtagh motioned in the direction of his car, and kept his protective grip on Eragon's arm.

When they reached it, Murtagh paused, then shivered slightly, a sudden thought occurring to him. Eragon stopped, feeling Murtagh stop behind him, and started to turn around as Murtagh suddenly acted impulsively, reaching past him and yanking open the back seat door. Eragon hesitated, surprised, but Murtagh didn't wait for him to react – the older teen simply spun his brother around, kissed him, wrapped his arm's around Eragon's waist, and carefully guided him down to the seat so that Eragon was lying on his back and Murtagh was straddling him.

Eragon broke off the kiss, giving Murtagh a puzzled look. Murtagh didn't even bother to answer, just leaned down and kissed him again – he couldn't get enough of Eragon, couldn't feel enough of those soft lips, could never be satisfied with any amount he got of his brother.

It was beautiful, it was so very wrong and wickedly right, so perfectly wonderful. Eragon was just Eragon, human yet perfect, and now Eragon was his, just like he had been Eragon's this entire time.

Was it possible to feel this right, when you were kissing your brother?

_No, not my brother,_ Murtagh realized. _There are things more important than DNA. Roran is Eragon's brother, just like Morzan isn't my father, and just like Garrow is Eragon's father. That's how it works. _

"Eragon," Murtagh said quietly, staring down at his bro – no, boyfriend. Eragon was his boyfriend now.

"Hmm?" Eragon murmured, staring back and admiring the handsome creature above him. Oh, but he wanted to reach up and touch that pale skin, caress it and kiss it and worship it. On impulse he did, raising his right hand to lightly brush Murtagh's cheek.

Murtagh smiled at the touch, taking the hand gently and kissing it. "How far are you willing to let me go with you?"

Eragon froze, just now beginning to realize the implications and possibilities now in front of him.

Murtagh was his boyfriend. That meant… all those fantasies, those were open to him. And Murtagh was open to doing things with him return. But did that mean he was obligated? Did Murtagh expect him to –

Did he want to? Eragon swallowed, thinking of a dream he'd had recently. If that was any evidence, he most certainly did. But he'd never done anything before. And Murtagh had. How was he supposed to hold his own against someone who had experience, someone older and knew just where to touch –

Eragon shivered at the thought.

Murtagh's voice cut through his thoughts. "I didn't mean to freak you out or anything, I won't push you."

Eragon blinked.

Murtagh rose, face carefully blank again. "I didn't mean… sorry." He calmly stepped away from the back seat door, motioning for Eragon to step out. "Let's go home."

Eragon just stared at him for a moment. Then he felt something tug at him – a little twitch of a thought, that little inner voice that, as usual, sounded too much like Saphira.

_Idiot_, it snapped. _Look what you did. Now he's going to clam up again and put that mask back on just when you got it off. Attack him while he's down – don't let him start acting emotionless again. Force him out!_

So Eragon did the only thing he could think of. He calmly got up, stepped out of the car, shut the back seat door, and got in the passenger. Murtagh was already in the driver's seat, lost in thought.

"Garrow isn't going to be home from work until about noon, right?" Eragon asked casually.

"Yeah," Murtagh muttered, starting the car.

"And Roran's still with Katrina, visiting her aunt." Eragon began to consider the possibilities. So many things could happen in an empty house with thick walls.

"Yeah. Why?"

"Just wondering."

--

Eragon moaned as he was shoved up against the door, Murtagh kissing him with more force than he had ever considered anyone capable of. He panted, shivering under his boyfriend's touch, and biting his lips to fight back the whimpers and gasps that tore at his throat. A soft whine made it's escape as Murtagh bit down at his neck – that one noise broke Eragon's resistance, and all thoughts of keeping quiet escaped him.

"Oh_ god_," he whimpered as Murtagh's hand slid under his shirt.

Murtagh pulled away slightly, breathing heavily. "Eragon," he growled. "You're pushing your luck." He leaned in closely, his lips brushing Eragon's ear lobe, his hot breath licking at the sensitive skin there. "You have no idea how badly I want to fuck you right now."

Eragon shivered again. As tempted as he was to just say, "go ahead", he had to think this out. He'd jumped Murtagh as soon as they were in the house, but that'd been more on impulse than anything else – now he was having second thoughts.

Did he really want to do this?

His virginity. Something precious, something he could never give again.

Was he really willing to go that far for Murtagh? To put his very being at risk, to expose his vulnerability to someone who had shown little sympathy for anyone in the past?

If Eragon did do it, then Murtagh could still leave him, just abandon him and break him.

Would Murtagh just fuck someone then throw them away? Yes, he'd done before, albeit the fact he'd made it clear to them before that was what was going to happen. Murtagh made no secret that the nights he didn't come home he was out screwing some stranger. And while the older teen had been in relationships before, they never lasted longer than a month.

_He wouldn't do that to me_, Eragon told himself firmly. _He's always made it clear to his interests that he's not interested beyond sex, and he's made it clear to me he won't push to do this. _

As Murtagh bent down and kissed his boyfriend, his Eragon, again, their hands slipped down, and Murtagh's slightly larger hand squeezed Eragon's reassuringly. A promise, if a silent one, that he wouldn't take it too far.

Eragon's eyes slid shut as he enjoyed the sensation of lips, tongue, and, every once in a while, teeth. _He doesn't want to hurt me, he's not going to leave me if I do. Besides, he needs this, and so do I._

"Eragon," Murtagh said, pulling away again, "you can stop me, don't you realize that?"

"Who says I want you to stop?" Eragon mumbled, tugging Murtagh closer again.

Murtagh shook his head and refused to move. "You're not doing anything. If you wanted me kissing you like this, you'd be more enthusiastic. You don't have to lie."

Eragon glared at him. He'd spent the last few minutes arguing with himself over he wanted, and now that he'd finally figured it out, Murtagh was going to tell him he was wrong? "I know what I want," he retorted.

"You don't understand what I want, then," Murtagh hissed, cheeks flushing. "If we go much farther than this, I'm not going to be able to control myself – "

"Then don't," Eragon told him. He took a deep breath and took the plunge – he reached down, fingers curling around the bulge in Murtagh's pants that had slowly grown in the last few minutes.

Murtagh's breath hitched and his eyes widened, his grip on Eragon's hands tightening. "W-what," he gasped. "Why the hell – "

Eragon massaged Murtagh's erection roughly, and the older teen moaned, all but collapsing against him. The brunet curled his free arm around Murtagh's waist, enjoying the feeling of their skin almost touching, separated only by cloth. He let himself moan softly as well – Murtagh's pleasure was leaking into him, the noises of their combined breathing and the moans, as well as the knowledge of how aroused he was making his boyfriend, was invading his senses and making him even harder than he was before.

"Eragon," Murtagh panted, shuddering with pleasure. His eyes were clouded with lust. "Er-a-gon…"

After a moment of almost painful tension, Eragon not knowing quite what he was doing and just playing it by ear, and Murtagh almost completely out of his mind, Murtagh seemed to snap out of it.

"What the hell," he moaned, feebly struggling against his supposedly naïve and shy little brother, "are you doing?"

"Isn't that kind of obvious?" Eragon replied huskily.

Murtagh managed to push himself away, though it took every ounce of self-control he had left. "You don't know what you're doing. Don't expect me to be able to hold back, I don't want to end up forcing you – "

"Dammit, Murtagh, if you tell me one more time to stop, I really will." Eragon's eyes were fierce as he spoke. "You can't force the willing."

Murtagh's eyes widened slightly. Then, without any more hesitation, he yanked himself out of Eragon's grip, easily reached down and picked the younger male up, then proceeded to carry him, bridal-style, to their room, where they stayed for the rest of the night. Doing what, pray tell?

Not sleeping, that's for sure.

--

Eragon awakened to the annoying, chirpy sound of his cell phone going on in the pocket of his now ruined jeans. Groaning a protest, he moved to slid off the bed and grab it, but wasn't allowed to move. An arm was firmly around his waist.

He smiled, squirming against Murtagh's hold. "Wake up, will you? Someone's calling me."

Murtagh only tightened his embrace. "Leave it," he growled in Eragon's ear.

Eragon shook his head. "If it's Saphira, she's going to be mad."

"Let her be. Stay."

"Murtagh," Eragon said firmly, "I have to…"

Murtagh licked his neck, then nipped at it lightly. Eragon's protest trailed off into a whine as Murtagh continued the attack. When Murtagh finally stopped playing with the skin there, the phone was silent.

"Murtagh," Eragon protested weakly.

"Do you want me to stop?"

Eragon opened his mouth to retort that _yes_, he most certainly _did_, when Murtagh reached up with one hand and lightly tweaked a nipple. All that came out was a whimper.

"Well, too bad, because we have to get up," Murtagh announced, smirking evilly and rising from the bed.

"Bastard," Eragon muttered, following him off the bed. He yawned and swiftly retrieved the cell phone from the pocket of his ruined jeans. "Shoot, it _was_ Saphira."

Murtagh shrugged. "So? How is she more important than kissing?"

Eragon rolled his eyes and tugged on a pair of pants, then went to the closet and pulled on a shirt at random. His phone rang again.

This time he flipped it open before Murtagh attempted to prevent him from answering. "Hello?"

"_Eragon? It's Saphira."_

"Of course it is," Eragon replied. He glanced at Murtagh, who was listening curiously, and made no move towards the bathroom.

"_How did it go?"_

"We're together and happy."

There was a brief silence, then Saphira asked, _"Can I talk to him for a moment?"_

"Sure." Eragon tossed the phone to Murtagh, who caught it. "She wants to talk to you."

Murtagh scowled – he and Saphira had never gotten along. "H'llo?" he said flatly into the phone.

Murtagh was silent, listening. Then, after a long moment, he smiled ever-so-slightly. "You have my permission. In fact, please tell Thorn he can help you uphold that promise of yours." He tossed the phone back to Eragon.

"What'd she say?" he asked curiously, not putting the phone back ear yet.

"I believe her exact words were 'hurt him and I hurt you'." Murtagh laughed and went into the bathroom. After a moment, Eragon heard the shower start.

Eragon put the phone back to his ear. "What was that about?"

_"We now have an agreement. I'll trust him with you, but if he does anything funny, he's dead. Sound okay to you?"_

Eragon rolled his eyes. "Overprotective as ever."

_"If I didn't keep you out of trouble, no one would. By the way, I want the whole story tomorrow, and Zak, Thorn, and Arya probably are, too."_

"Tomorrow? You're not demanding it today?"

_"It's nine o'clock at night."_

Eragon's eyes widened, then chuckled. "Tomorrow, then. 'night." He snapped the cell phone shut, smiling.

He was about to turn around when an arm gripped him around the waist. "Let's say you join me in the shower, huh?" Murtagh breathed in his ear.


End file.
